
mummi 



The Cinderella-Man 



A Comedy in Four Acts 



BY 



EDWARD CHILDS CARPENTER. 



Sbd 



The Cinderella-Man 

A Comedy in Four Acts 

BY 
EDWARD CHILDS CARPENTER. 






'CI.D 42507 



DEC 16 1915 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



CHARACTERS 



MARJORIE CANER. 
MORRIS T. CANER, her father. 
D. ROMNEY EVANS, a Lawyer. 
ALBERT SEWALL, a Composer. 
DR. JOSEPH THAYER. 
ANTHONY QUINTARD. 
WALTER NICOLLS. 
BLODGETT, Butler at Caner's 
CELESTE, Marjorie's French Maid. 
JERRY PRIMROSE. 
THE GREAT SHE-BEAR! 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/cinderellamancomOOcarp 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



The New York Mansion of Morris T. Caner. 
SCENE : 

A massive, palatial, drawing-room. The tone of the room is 
cold grey with decorations in old blue and silver. The heavy tapes- 
try hangings and the upholstery are old gold and silver. The walls 
are broken with Gobelin tapestry panels framed in silver. There are 
huge silver sconces either side of the panels. All of the furniture 
is massive, almost as though the house were inhabited by giants. In 
the centre of the back flat, a zvide arched entrance, backed by a hall- 
way in which the same blue predominates. To the R. and L. of the 
C.E. stand massive throne chairs against the walls. A round, ornate 
table L. side of C. E. In the R. fiat a series of very high and arched 
zvindozvs extend dozvn to the floor. Near by the windows, the 
largest grand piano obtainable, set with its keyboard facing the 
R. upper corner of the stage. A tall vase on the piano with calla- 
lilies in it. A piano bench at the piano. A tnusic cabinet up stage R. 
A broad, lozv, very heavy carved settee stands at the lower end 
of the piano. In the L. flat a high arched entrance midway up stage. 
A blue and silver screen in front of this entrance. An enormous 
and ornate fireplace midway dozvn stage L. Candelabra, porcelain 
jars, a brass match box on the mantel. A white bearskin rug in 
front of the fireplace. Opposite the fireplace, L. of L.C., a tre- 
mendously long, big and heavy davenport upholstered in silver and 
blue brocade, faces the audience. Backed against the davenport is 
a long carved table, draped and set out zuith a few fine pieces of 
porcelain and candelabra. A big chair at the table. 

The time is about six-thirty. The room is illuminated zmth a 
cold but soft light; the hallway with anamber light. 

Rise of curtain discovers MORRIS T. CANER and DR. 
JOSEPH THAYER up stage L. of C.E. CANER is about 55 years 
of age, six feet tall, heavily built without being stout, hale and 
hearty, with a ruddy complexion, sandy-grey hair and closely 
cropped moustache — a type of the Captain of Industry, used to order- 
ing and being obeyed. He wears immaculate evening dress. He 
leans a little on the cane, nurses his right leg at every opportunity, 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



being afflicted with a severe attack of rheumatism. THAYER is 
tall, smart-looking, professional, gentlemanly, crisp. Age, about 
50. Wears evening dress. CANER is showing THAYER a small 
Chinese vase, antique pale blue and white pattern of the Hsuan-te 
reign period. 

CANER (With great enthusiasm) — Look at that! Isn't it a 
beautj' — a little masterpiece? Not another like it in this country! 
Not one! Picked it up at auction today with a lot of junk — right 
under Duveen's nose ! He never saw it — he would have given his 
eyes for it ! Duveen ! I've beaten him — beaten him ! Ha, Ha, Ha ! 
No pedigree ! But I guessed what it was ! You think all I know is 
coke and steel, eh ! But I've got an instinct ! — an instinct ! I don't 
need a catalogue to tell me when I see a genuine antique ! But I 
bought better than I knew ! Old Humphries — ^he's collecting por- 
celains to send back to China — he knows, the old dog! — (Excitedly, 
prancing about) — And what did he tell me? — produced in the Ming 
dynasty — about 1403 — Hsuan-te reign ! See that — that's what you 
call Mohammedan blue! What do you think of it? (Places vase 
on tabic, looks at it with enthusiasm). 

THAYER — Quite a bit of luck, but you've no business to be 
dancing about on that rheumatic leg of yours ! 

CANER— It's MY leg! 

THAYER — But you're my patient! Sit down! — (Takes Caner 
by arm to lead him to chair back of table L.C.) 

CANER — (Pushing Thayer azvay) — I'm bored with sitting 
down! — (Leans against edge of table) — At this very minute I 
should be at the pier — my daughter is arriving from France ! — 
(Lays cane on table). 

T}^KY'ER— (Sarcastically) — Seems to me you're taking a 
violent interest in her all of a sudden ! 

CANER — Only because I've got to ! I tell you, Joe, I don't 
want ANY woman in my house ! 

THAYER— Selfish brute! 

CANER — If I had any decent relatives living, I'd pack the 
girl off to them ! She'll be a confounded nuisance — a positive 
embarrassment. 

THAYER — -(With humor) — You know — ^it's barely possible — 
you may like your daughter when you see her! 

CANER — There isn't a chance ! 

THAYER— When did you see her last ! 

CANER — I haven't laid eyes on her for fourteen years. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



THAYER — I didn't realize it was as long as that ! Why didn't 
you bring her home, yourself — three months ago — when her mother 
died? 

CANER — When my wife and I separated — that was the end ! 

THAYER — The end between you and your wife, maybe, but 
not between you and your child, Morris! I'm ashamed of you! 

CANER — I've done all that could be expected of me under 
the circumstances! I made no fuss when she took Marjorie away — 
I always gave her all the money she could spend ! 

THAYER — Did you ever give Marjorie a thought f 

CANER — I gave her an allowance — a damn big one ! 

THAYER — Did you ever write her a single letter/ 

CANER — Yes, I did. I wrote her when I got word of her 
mother's death — to draw on me for whatever she wanted ! 

THAYER — And I suppose Romney Evans spared you even 
that feeble effort ! 

CANER — What's the use in having a lawyer if he can't write 
an occasional letter for you? — {Thayer shakes his head in contempt) 
— Besides, Romney likes writing in words of one syllable! I don't!' 

THAYER — {Looking at Caner with contempt) — By Jove, you 
know — you've succeeded in everything — except as a father ! There 
you've been a failure — a failure, Morris — just as much as any 
drunken old slob that neglects his family ! In fact, you're a hell 
of a father ! 

CANER — {Hotly) — You didn't know my wife! 

THAYER — Yes I did ! She was a iine woman ! She had 
too much spunk to put up with your temper ! 

CANER — MY temper? She was the most obstinate woman 
that ever lived! She died just to irritate me! 

THAYER— All I've got to say is— I hope you'll treat the 
daughter better than you did the wife ! 

CANER — I won't take any nonsense from Marjorie! 

THAYER — Then take some advice from me — and lavish a little 
attention on her — treat her like your pet railroad ! And remember, 
you old grouch, that she is your only child — your heiress ! 

CANER — Heiress ! Hah ! More trouble ! Men — aftet her for 
MY money! 

THAYER — There's the pity of it — for her ! 

CANER — -{Confidentially) — It's happened already! Some cub 
she met at Nice last summer ! Nicolls is his name ! Impudent 
young beggar ! Called at my office a few weeks ago — gave me the 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



idea that he and Marjorie are too damned intimate! — {Door bell 
buzzes. Presently BLODGETT, the butler passes C.E. in hallway 
from L. to R.) 

THAYER — Have you taken the trouble to look him up? 

CANER — (Warmly) — I have! He's a — a drone — a waster — 
a parasite — brought up with the notion that all he has to do is to 
marry some rich girl! But I won't have him in my family. (Blod- 
gett appears at C.E. from R. He is old, tall, lean, and very 
dignified). 

Bl^O'DGWTT— {Announcing) — Miss Marjorie Canei ! Mr. 
Romney Evans! — (Caner and Thayer start, and go up L.C. Caner 
leaves his stick on the table back of davenport. MARJORIE 
CANER appears at C.E., follozved by ROMNEV EVANS. 
CELESTE, a French maid, carrying a small handbag, appears back 
of them, standing in the hall, hi a moment she disappears L. in 
hall with Blodgett. ^ARJORIE is 19, small, dainty, pretty, with 
charming natural manners. She is exquisitely dressed in the 
deepest sort of French mourning. ROMNEY is about 50, tall, 
slender, keen but kindly looking, partially bald, a gentleman. He 
wears eye-glasses, smart evening dress). 

MARJORIE — {Looking wistfully, from Thayer to Caner and 
from Caner to Thayer) — Which — is — my — Pa-pa? 

CANER — {Embarrassed) — I — I am your father! How do 
you do? — {Holding out his hand to her). 

MARJORIE — {Taking his hand) — In France — fathers kiss 
their — 'their daughters ! Isn't it done here ? 

CANER — {Embarrassed) — I — I believe so! It all depends 
upon how — how you feel about it! 

MARJORIE — ^I feel about it just like any other girl; but 
perhaps you— you don't feel about it like — some fathers ! You see, 
I'm rather a — strange daughter to you ! 

THAYER— For- God's sake, kiss the girl ! 

CANER — {Snapping at Thayer) — I'm going to — I'm going to! 

MARJORIE — Yes, 3'ou must begin sometime — so it may as 
well be now! — -{Caner stoops to her. She kisses him daintly)- — 
There ! It's all over ! You didn't mind very much ! 

CKR'ER— {Gruffly)— WmA it? Why should I? I m^iy not 
be the perfect pattern of a father, but I dare say that I'm no 
worse than you expected ! 

MARJORIE — I think you're going to turn out very well ! 

CANER — {With gruff humor) — Then you're not disappointed 
in me? 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE — Oh no — I was afraid that you wouldn't care to 
have me here at all, but you seem to be^ — {Hesitates) — quite — 
cordial! — (Pause. Looks at him seriously, zvistfuUy) — You're really 
glad — to see me? 

CANER— What— what's that? 

■ THAYER — Of course you're glad to see her ! Tell her how 
glad you are ! 

CANER — Yes — yes — i'm — I'm glad — certainly ! 

MARJORIE — Thank you, Pa-pa ! That's going to make it 
ever so much easier for :::c ! 

CANER — {With a grunt) — Yoii're a strange little thing! 

MARJORIE — I do feel a little strange! I suppose that's 
because I've been away from home so long! — {Looking about) — 
This big place is "home," isn't it? 

CANER— Naturally ! 

MARJORIE— H-o-m-e \—{N ervously)—Wh&res Romney ?— 
{Turning to Romney. Then zvith relief) — Oh, there you are! — 
{Romney takes her hand. She clings to his). 

CANER — -And this is Dr. Thayer — {With a flash of humor) 
— one of the most disagreeable friends I have ! 

MARJORIE — {Offering her hand to Thayer) — You don't look 
a bit disagreeable ! 

THAYER — I'm not — really, my dear ! I only wish I were 
an uncle or a father of yours — anything that would entitle me to 
an em,brace ! — {Fats her hand). 

MARJORIE — {Reluctantly letting go of Ronmey's hand and 
accepting Thayer's) — Perhaps — when I know you better — 

CANE^^ — You don't need to kiss every man- you meet! 

MARJORIE— I dcn't! But I couldn't help it I had to hug 
Romney — at the pier. We've been such friends — writing to each 
other for years — {To Romney, repossessing herself of his hand)' — 
haven't we? — {Roiiuiey nods, pals her ha-id) — I knew him right 
away — didn't I — {Romney nods and smiles) — And I've never seen 
even a picture of him! You see he wrote me such a cunning 
description of binse'f! I t"^'! so pv-^ter! — looking for a tall bald- 
headed man v/ith a li:tle red feather in his hat! — {To Romney)- — 
I hope you didn't catch cold. — {To the others) — Rom.ney kept 
holding up his hat so that I could see the red feather and his 
bald head at the same time! And it was so sweet of such a 
smart person as Romney to put a ■ red feather in his silk hat — 
just for me. — {Suddenly, contritely) — Oh, Pa-pa — I forgot! Please 
forgive me! How is your foot? Romney told me about it. 

CANER — Bad! Very bad! — (Looks shirringly at Thayer). 



10 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE — {To Thayer) — What are you giving him? 

THAYER— Aspirin ! 

MARJORIE— That's good! I know! Mother and I— {She 
is affected for an instant by the memory of her mother) — we 
had a concierge in Paris with rheumatism ! That's what we gave 
him — ten grains every two hours ! It cured him ! And surely 
if it would cure a concierge, it ought to cure Pa-pa ! Perhaps 
he doesn't obey your orders ! I don't suppose he's a very good 
patient — -men aren't ! 

THAYER — Your father is the worst patient in the Western 
Hemisphere ! 

MARJORIE — I thought so. Pa-pa, have you taken your 
medicine? 

CANER — I — I don't remember. 

MARJORIE — Where is your medicine? 

CANER— I don't know. 

MARJORIE — But you must take it — at once ! How are we 
to get you well if you don't? 

CANER — I'll take it. I'll take it ! Now run along — and dress 
for dinner! And — look here, Marjorie — {Indicating her mourning) 
— I don't want to see you dressed like that ! 

MARJORIE— (Pw^^'Zec?)— Why? What's wrong with this? 

CANER — It's too much black, for a little girl like you ! — 
{Marjorie looks up at him, wide-eyed, solemnly, feeling behind 
her for Romney's hand. Romney takes her hand, holds it, com„- 
fortingly) . — I want you to take it off — take it all off! 

MARJORIE — {Hurt — speaking softly) — But I wear this for — 
mother. 

CANER — I know — but I'd rather see you in a more cheerful 
looking frock!— -(ilfar/onV looks up at him wonderingly, with a 
quivering little sigh) — Blodgett ! — {Blodgett comes to the C.E. 
from L.) — Marjorie — this is Blodgett! Blodgett, show Miss Mar- 
jorie to her rooms! 

BLODGETT — Yes, sir! — {Takes letter from pocket and gives 
it to Marjorie) — It came for you this morning. Miss. 

MARJORIE — {Mechanically taking letter from him) — Thank 
you — {To C.E.) — -Celeste! — {Blodgett iiiakes way for CELESTE, 
who appears in hallway from L.) 

CELESTE — Oui, Mademoiselle! — {Marjorie makes a dignified 
little bow to the men and exits C.E. following Blodgett and Celeste 
through hallway to L.) 

CANER — -{To Romney) — You saw that letter? It was Nicoll's 
monogram on the envelope ! 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 11 



ROMNEY — Yes. But you needn't be uneasy. I mentioned 
Nicolls, coming up in the car. 

CANER — (Limping down to chair at table back of davenport, 
impatiently) — -Well, well — what did you say to her? 

ROMNEY — {Coming down R. of table) — I suggested — mildly 
— that she must be sure the young man has not been more dazzled 
by her wealth — than her beauty! — (Thayer comes down to fire- 
place L.) 

CANER — (Impatiently) — What did she say? 

ROMNEY — Nothing much ! But she doesn't love him. She 
only thinks she does. 

CANER — (Sarcastically to Thayer) — Romncy has X-ray powers 
of penetration ! 

ROMNEY — I can see through you for all the frost on your 
panes ! 

THAYER — "Frost" is the right word. 

ROMNEY — (After a glance at C.E., where Marjorie made 
her exit) — ^Poor little thing-^she's lonely — wants something to 
love — Nicolls is the first young man she has ever known inti- 
mately. 

CANER— (/m7a&/3))— Intimately!— (To Thayer)— Whd.t did 
I tell you, Joe! — (To Romney)—Th.&vt'.s an understanding between 
them.- 

ROMNEY — Perhaps. But from what I gathered, I'd say 
Nicolls was merely on probation. 

CK^KR—iinhl— (Ponders. Pause). 

ROMNEY — By-t'he-by, Christmas is day after to-morrow ! 
We've got to make it cheery for Marjorie! 

CANER — (Irritably) — I will — I will, I'll give her a pearl 
necklace — an automobile. 

ROMNEY — You talk like a barbarian ! It isn't presents she 
wants — ^it's cheerful companionship — diversion ! 

CANER— All right— all right! I'll give her a ball. 

ROMNEY — (With a groan) — Your ideas are so primitive. 
Marjorie doesn't v/r.nt a bc'.l!. Poor little thing's in mourning. 

CANER — Then I give it up ! I'll leave her to you. I'll 
give her to you ! Romney, I wish you'd marry the child. 

ROMNEY — (With a laugh) — I would — if I were twenty-five 
years younger — and she were willing ! 

CANER — I'm serious. She'd be safe with you. 

ROMNEY — No girl wants to be safe — she wants to be 
happy ! 

CANER — Oh, what do you know about it anyway? 



12 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



ROMNEY — I remember what you, you old fossil, never 
knew — YOUTH ! You don't know what that means. It isn't 
middle age! It's ROMANCE! That's what Marjorie needs — 
to make her happy — her own romance ! 

CANER — Pooh ! Romance ? It's a myth — you know it ! 

ROMNEY — I know I missed it! But Marjorie shan't. This 
is the open mating season for her — and, by Jove, I'm going to 
KEEP it open for her ! 

CANER — (Hotly) — I'll have something to say about that! 

ROMNEY— You won't! 

THAYER — That will do ! Come on, Romney. Let's have 
a go at billiards. 

ROMNEY — Is there time before dinner? 

CANER— (Laying hold of his stick)— Plenty. It'll take that 
girl an hour to powder her nose. — (Rises). 

THAYER — (To Caner) — You can't stand around and play 
on that leg! We'll let you score. 

CANER — I won't score. Sewall will be here presently. He 
and I'll have a go at chess. — (Exeunt Caner, Thayer and Romney 
L.U.E.) 

ROMNEY — (Off stage, his voice fading gradually) — Sewall's 
coming to entertain Marjorie — not you! 

(After a moment, MARJORIE appears at C.E. from L. She 
is exquisitely dressed in a girlish semi-evening gown of white 
mourning . She looks about, wondering where the men are. Then 
comes slowly down stage, inspecting the room, and sits in the 
centre of the davenport). 

(She is lonely. Presently she takes the letter, which Blodgett 
gave her, from her breast and reads it. It gives her a great 
deal of satisfaction, cheers her up. She returns the letter to her 
breast. Sits motionless). 

(Now she begins to grow m.ore lonely again, until in despera- 
tion she rises suddenly, goes to the L.U.E. , looks off, sees no one; 
looks about the room. Walks down and stands C, turns her back 
to the audience; looks about again; then goes to the settee below 
piano R.C., climbs up on settee and takes calla-lily from tall 
vase; climbs down, goes up stage and puts lily in the jar on 
round table; surveys effect. Then tries to move the throne 
chairs. They are too heavy. Looks about for help; finds button 
in wall near C.E., pushes it, then turns and goes to fireplace, 
taking a position on the bear-skin rug, her back to the fireplace, 
which dwarfs her, and with her eyes on C.E. Blodgett appears 
at C.E.) 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 13 



MARJORIE — Blodgett, please come here. — (Blodgett comes 
down L.C.) — Blodgett, is this the state drawing-room — or 
what? 

BLODGETT— This is the small drawing-room — the large 
drawing-room, the music room, and the gallery are off there, 
Miss! — (Indicating it) — I'll have them lighted up if you wish! 

MARJORIE — No thank you— this is big enough and cold 
enough for me ! 

BLODGETT— (CoW/i))— We try to keep them comfortable, 
Miss. 

MARJORIE — Nobody would be comfortable in this room — 
except a giant and his family. The furniture is perfectly enor- 
mous ! . . . Why is it stuck about in such a stiff way? This — 
this davenport — looks as though it were posing for its photo- 
graph ! 

BLODGETT — (Coldly) — It's always been that way. Miss. 

MARJORIE — I'd change it myself — only it's all nailed 

DOWN ! 

BLODGETT^ — Excuse me. Miss, but it's not nailed down. 

MARJORIE — (Lays hold of davenport) — Then we'll change 
it now ! 

BLODGETT — (Horror, struck) — I wouldn't like to — without 
your father's permission. 

MARJORIE— Please, Blodgett— please. 

BLODGETT— -I hope you won't insist. Miss. 

MARJORIE — I DO insist! — (Takes Blodgett by the arm and 
draws him to davenport) — We'll begin with this hulking old 
davenport. 

BLODGETT — (Disgusted) — I know your father, Miss. He 
won't like it ! 

MARJORIE — (Actually placing Blodgctt's hands on the table 
back of davenport, and making him assist her, moving it aside) — 
He mightn't if we asked him — but when he sees how we have 
improved things — he'll be so surprised and delighted — 

BLODGETT — (Sourly) — That he'll give me my notice. 

MARJORIE — (Draiving Blodgett to davenport; he comes 
reluctantly) — Good gracious! If that's what you're afraid of, 
I'll take the blame ! But my father's sure to be pleased. He 
would have done it himself, if he'd ever thought of it'! — (As 
she directs the turning of the davenport so that it shall face 
fireplace) — Your own artistic sense, Blodgett, must tell you-^ 
that this davenport ought to face the fireplace. 



14 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



BLODGETT — (As he swings davenport about to face fire- 
place. With a sigh) — You'll be sorry, Miss. 

MARJORIE— There ! That's splendid! Now the table!— 
(Helps Blodgett to move table) — We want it — against the back 
of the davenport! Now — let me see! — (Looks about room.) 

BLODGETT — (Disgusted, worried) — You're not going to move 
anything else — are you, Miss ? 

MARJORIE^Ob, yes! We've just begun! , That throne 
chair up there! — (Points to throne chair up stage L. of C.E. 
Blodgett goes up to get it, wearily) — I want it rights here! — 
(Points to spot upon which she is standing, just R. of table 
L.C.) 

BLODGETT — (Dragging throne chair down to L.C.) — Excuse 
me, Miss, but haven't we done enough for to-night? — (CANER 
enters L.U.E., carrying his stick. He stops there, first amazed, 
then angry at the sight of the changes in the room). 

MARJORIE — (Helping Blodgett set the chair as she wants 
it) — You like it that way — don't you? 

BLODGETT— No', Miss— I do think the old way's the 
safest! 

CANER — (Coming down L. in front of fireplace, exploding) 
— Blodgett, are you out of your mind? — (Blodgett starts from 
the chair,as though it were something hot, and stands C. stiffly, 
stoically, prepared for the storm to break). 

MARJORIE — (With her hand on the throne chair, looking 
innocently at Caner, speaking quietly) — No — no! He's been help- 
ing me! He doesn't like it, but I think it's quite an improvement 
— don't you, pa-pa? 

CA'NER— (Emphatically, angrily)— No\ I do not!— (To 
Blodgett) — Blodgett, what the deuce do you mean by moving the 
furniture about in this disorderly manner? 

BLODGETT— I thought, sir, that 

MARJORIE — You don't have to lie, like a gentleman, Blodgett ! 
— (To Caner) — I made him do it! 

CANER — (Angrily) — He' had no business to mind a chit of 
a girl like you ! 

MARJORIE— But I told him I'd discharge him, if he didn't— 
didn't I, Blodgett? 

BLODGETT— Yes, Miss! 

CANER — (Tartly to Marjoric) — Who do you think you are, 
anyway? 

AlARJORIE — I naturally supposed. Pa-pa, when you invited 
me to live with you, that I would be mistress of the house ! 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 15 



CANER — {Ignoring her) — Blodgett, put that furniture back 
where you found it — and see that it stays there. 

MARJORIE— But, Pa-pa, it looks so much better the way 
it is! 

CANER — Blodgett, you understand what I said? 

BLODGETT — {Laying hold of throne chair) — Yes, sir! — 
{Takes throne chair and replaces it up stage). 

MARJORIE — {To Caner) — It isn't polite for you to counter- 
mand my orders that way. — {Blodgett comes down stage and 
moves table). 

CANER — This is my house — not yours, young lady! 

MARJORIE — {Hurt, but with spirit) — You're certainly not 
making me feel very much at home in it! — {Blodgett swings 
davenport around from fireplace, to face down stage again). 

CANER— (GiWw^r davenport a vicious shove with his cane) — 
You'll have to learn to feel at home in it ! 

MARJORIE — {Quietly, with a little quiver in her voice) — 
Is that the way you treated — mother? 

{Caner starts, stung by the question. His impulse is to 
fly into a rage, but as he looks at the hurt yet unafraid little 
figure standing before him, it comes over him that he has been 
brutal to her. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders) . 

CANER — {Quietly, but with genuine dignity) — Marjorie, I 
lost my temper ! I beg your pardon ! 

MARJORIE — {Not "freshly," hut with quaint seriousness) — 
I really think you should — although I know it must be very 
hard for a — big man like you to apologize to a — little girl like 
me. 

CANER — I think we can come to an understanding ! This 
is your home now. The servants are to obey you! — {After a 
m.oment's consideration) — You may have whatever you want for 
your comfort or your pleasure — so long as it does not upset the 
present order of things in the household. 

MARJORIE — Thank you, Pa-pa! — {Caner starts towards L. 
U.D. Blodgett is rearranging the furniture as it stood ori- 
ginally). 

MARJORIE — {Brightening up, as an idea strikes her)— Fa-pa.\ 
I can have anything I want? 

CANER — {Turning at L.U.D.) — Anything within reason- — 
{Emphatically) — So long as you do not move the furniture. 

MARJORIE— Not one— little footstool? 

CANER — Not one! — {Caner exits L.U.D. Blodgett is finish- 
ing the readjustment of the furniture). 



16 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



^ MARJORIE — (Clasping her hands happily, smiling) — Blodgett. 
You heard what my father said ? I . am to have whatever I 
want. 

BLODGETT— Yes, Miss. 

MARJORIE — {Looking about the rooin, speaking with spirit) 
— Now ! . . . I want you to get me some flowers — orchids and 
roses and tiger-liHes and jonquils and yellow chrysanthemums 
— thousands of them! Order them the first thing in the morn- 
ing — I shall die if I don't cheer this place up! — {Turns L. and 
takes a position on the rug in- front of the fireplace). 

BLODGETT— Is that all, Miss? 

MARJORIE— No. Are there any pets in this house? 

BLODGETT— (Scandaliced)— Pets? 

MARJORIE— Yes— animals ! Birds! Fishes! 

BLODGETT— No, indeed, Miss! 

MARJORIE— Not even one little puppy-dog? 

BLODGETT— No, Miss. 

MARJORIE — Surely the cook has a cat! 

BLODGETT— (6'^j^a))— The cook is a chef, Miss. 

MARJORIE — Can't a chef have a cat? 

BLODGETT — Not here i Your father won't have anything 
like that in the house ! 

MARJORIE — It's time he did ! No wonder it's so silent and 
cold and forlorn. 

BLODGETT— Is that all, Miss? 

MARJORIE — No ! I want you to get me a dog — any kind 
of a dog, an Angora cat, a dozen canary birds, an aquarium of 
gold fish and two or three pairs of squirrels! — {Bell bi:.:;.i:es in 
hall). 

BLODGETT— (Scandalised)— I wouldn't dare, Miss! 

MARJORIE— Then I'll order them myself. 

BLODGETT— Thank you, Miss. 

MARJORIE— At the same time I must have at le-st, fifty 
sofa pillows. 

BLODGETT— Is thet :", N:-" 

MARJORIE — All that T cnn th.ink of just now. You may 
go. — (Blodgett bozvs stiffly and c.rits C.E. to R. Marjorie goes 
up stage L. of C.E. and pulls the small table ivith l!ic jar 
awav from the wall. Th'^n she surveys it with satisfartion. Nozv 
she goes to the music stand , above the piano and lays hold of 
it as though to move it. Blodnett re-enters C.E. from R. carry- 
ing salver with card on it. Offers salver to Marjorie. She is 
puzrAed, picks up card, reads it zvith surprise). 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 17 



MARJORIE — Ask Mr. Nicolls to come in. — (Blodgett exits 
C.E. to R. Marjorie turns down stage belozv piano, looking at 
card). 

WALTER NICOLLS enters C.E. He is a tall young man, 
commonplace as to appearance, thick-skinned, sure of himself, 
rather conceited. He zvears one of those foolish-looking little 
moustaches with zva.red ends. He is dressed in a smart Tuxedo 
suit). 

WALTER — {Looking about, then seeing Marjorie and start- 
ing tozvards her R. speaking cheerily, as one sure of his wel- 
come). — Hello, Marjorie! Heard you were arriving toi-nig'ht. 
Thought j^ou wouldn't mind my dropping in for a moment — 
took a chance on catching you alone. — (Holds out his hand). 

MARJORIE — (Giving him her hand, cordially) — I wasn't ex- 
pecting you — so soon, bu': I'm glad ynu came. Pa-pa is having 
some of his old cronies to dinner — to meet me, or I'd ask you 
to stay. 

WALTER — Thanks just the same — couldn't possibly do it — 
got a dinner engagement myself — stage affair at the Knicker- 
bocker — taxi waiting. Now then — (Waves her to settee helow 
piano R.C.) — The fact is — I couldn't wait — had to come. — (Mar- 
jorie sits) — I've got something for you — (Sits beside her; takes 
small box from z'cst pocket) — I'm sure you'll like it — sort of 
combination cf Christmas present and — well, you'll see! — (Opens 
box and takes out- a shozvy, white satin case) — Selected that 
case with a great deal of care. Tiffany's — that's where I got 
it — wouldn't think of going anywhere else for a thing like this — 
(Places it in her hand) — Press the spring, and — 

MARJORIE— ( L^nc(??-i^ai;;/3;)— But. Walter— I 

WA..LTER — (Rubbing his hands, grinning with satisfaction) 
— Press the spring, press the s^rmg\^( 'Marjorie presses the spring, 
the lid flies open and discloses a small solitaire diamond ring) 
— Ah! There you are! — (Marjorie look at it in surprise) — Not 
a large, vulgar diamond — but fine, very fine. I knew you wonldn't 
care about the size. 

MARJORIE — It is pretty — very pretty, Walter; but we — we 
hadn't said anything about a — a ring! 

WALTER— N-- o! But you got my letter? I sent it 

here. 

MARJORIE — (Her hand going instinctively up to her breast) 
— Yes ! Only I haven't had time to make up my mind as to 
how I should answer it ! 



18 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



WALTEEi— Don't bother about that! Til make up your 
mind for you! — {Takes ring from case) — Here's the ring. Now, 
where's the finger? 

MARJORIE — {Putting her left hand behind her, smiling) — 
You mustn't be in such a hurry! — {Then soberly) — We've never 
talked about any subject so — so serious as this! 

WALTER — You'd never let me ! You had a way of putting 
me off — told me we didn't know each other well enough. But 
since last summer, I've done a lot of thinking about you — and 
remembering how very friendly and so on we were — I made up 
my mind, when I heard that you were coming home. And well, 
Marjorie, the time has come — hasn't it — when there should be 
something definite? 

MARJORIE — I suppose you're right, Walter ; and that is a 
very definite little ring. 

WALTER — Here, let me put it on your finger and we'll be 
definitely engaged. 

MARJORIE — {Still holding hand behind her) — And then 
what? 

WALTER — Why, we'll be married, of course — just as soon 
as — as you wish. I suppose your father will have something to 
say about that. 

MARJORIE — I don't know what he'll say at first — but in 
the end, he'll let me do whatever I want. 

WALTER— Good! That's settled! When shall we be 
married? 

MARJORIE — Before I answer that — so long as I'm taking 
all the responsibility for you — I hope you won't mind if I ask 
you a few questions. 

WALTER— (QOT'c/e/3))— Oh, I'm all right— perfectly healthy 
— play a lot of golf and tennis and so on — weather permitting ; 
and through the winter I'm dancing all the time — keeps me in 
fine condition. 

MARJORIE — You look well. But what I was going to ask 
is: how would you take care of me — after we were married? 

WALTER — I'll take splendid care of you — never let you go 
without your furs when it was cold — and — and when you weren't 
feeling fit — I'd bring you flowers and candy and so on. 

MARJORIE— (f^i^/i a smile) — Yes, yes., I'm sure you'd do 
all that. But 

WALTER — {Interrupting her) — That's nothing. I'll take you 
around everywhere — dinners — d — ances ! I'll show you what living 
is. We'll entertain a lot. Very formally — footman, all dolled 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 19 



up, behind every chair. Informally — that's where I come in — 
cabaret. We'll have the Castles. They come high — but I can 
get them— know them myself. And, of course, we'll have a car 
or two — a big blue limousine with my crest on it — and one of 
those lov/, sporty ones to tour in. And we've got to have a town 
and a country house — on an island ! That's where we'll put our 
country house. I know the very island we want. That means 
a yacht. And whenever we get bored stiff here, I'll just up and 
take you abroad. We might go to Japan, now the continent's in 
such a mess. 

MARJORIE — You must have a very large income. 

WALTER— (Startled)— What? 

MARJORIE — -I say, you must have a very large income. 

WALTER — ^I? My dear Marjorie, my income is so slender 
I often wonder how it supports me. 

MARJORIE— Wouldn't it be enough to support me, too ? 

WALTER— Never in the world. 

MARJORIE — I could be very economical. 

WALTER — Economical? Oh, that's so vulgar. 

MARJORIE — (With enthusiasm) — Oh, I see — you're going to 
work. 

WALTER— Work? I— I've never had to. 

MARJORIE — What could you do, I wonder? — (Walter won- 
ders) — Have you no talents? 

WALTER — ^Oh, yes. When I was a kid I used to draw things, 
you know — awfully clever and all that, but I -didn't keep it up — 
and I've got a great ear for music — whistle — play the drum — 
(Druniming in pantomime) — The kettle drum. I can play any 
old thing on the drum. Makes it awfully jolly — ^with the pianola 
— or the victrola — (Marjorie breaks into a little laugh) — What 
are you laughing at? 

MARJORIE — You're so practical — I think that's why I've 
liked you. . . . Tell me, what is the best thing you can do ? 

WALTER — Dance ! I'm a ripping good dancer. Only I 
shouldn't like to do it professionally — and you wouldn't like to 
have me — would you? 

MARJORIE — No. So I'm afraid we couldn't depend upon 
any of your — talents. 

WALTER— I'm afraid not. 

MARJORIE — That brings us down to your really working for 
me. 

WALTER — Is — is that necessary? 

MARJORIE— (^ little impatiently)— Surely it is ! 



20 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



WALTER — {Surprised) — You want me to go into business? 

MARJORIE— Why not? You could. Men do. 

WALTER — But I haven't any leanings that way. If I— I 
got a job, I'd be fired the first week. Besides, it wouldn't agree 
•with me. 

MARJORIE — {Wearily) — It was only my suggestion. I don't 
know — perhaps you have a better idea. — {There is a pause)-. 

WALTER— {Coughs)— Eh— 1— I rather thought that— that 
your father — might sort of — you know ! — set us up to begin with 
— and — and — {Winding up with an expansive- gesture). 

MARJORIE— Oh! that was your idea! 

WALTER — Isn't it the natural idea? You're his only child, 
aren't you? 

MARJORIE^ — Yes. So you think it's certain that some day 
he'll leave me all his money? 

WALTER — {Anxiously) — Don't you think he will? 

MARJORIE— I've never asked him. 

WALTER — I shouldn't think you'd need to. Even if he 
went a bit dotty in his old age, and went in for boosting charity 
and all that sort of thing, you'd be bound to come in for all we — 
I mean all you'd need. — {Pause. He waits for her to speak. She 
remains silent) — Eh — only last month, your father paid half a 
million for some musty old painting about so big. — {Illustrates a 
three-foot canvas) — If he can afford to do that, I should think 
he'd be willing to do something pretty nifty for you — when you — 
eh — marry, if you put it up to him in the right way. 

MARJORIE — {Looking steadily at Walter)— I couldn't do 
it. 

WALTER — I own he's an uncomfortable old bird to approach, 
but you could get 'round him — a girl always can. 

MARJORIE— (Fm;!,/3))— But I wouldn't. 

WALTER— {Surprised)— You wouldn't? 

MARJORIE — No. I'm afraid I have too much pride to ask 
my father to support the man I marry. 

WALTER — {Taken aback) — I wasn't suggesting that he sup- 
port me. Oh, no — just that he give you a start, until — until — 
{Finishes zvith a vague gesture). 

MARJORIE— {Shaking her head, disappointedly)— Oh. Walter. 
— {She shuts ring in the case and hands case to him). 

WALTER — {Tentatively, taking case) — I didn't get this for 
myself, you know — I got it for you. 

MARJORIE — {Rising coldly) — I'm very much obliged, but I 
can't keep it — I can't. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 2i 

WALTER — (Rising) — Just because I thouglit your father 
might 

MARJORIE — Please — don't go all over that again. 

WALTER — (Angrily)—! can't for the life of me see — 

MARJORIE— No. You can't. . . . Good-hye.— (Holds out her 
hand). 

WALTER — (Twirling box in his hand, ignoring hers angrily) 
— Marjorie, you'll be sorry for treating me like this. 

MARJORIE — I AM sorry — sorry that you are not different. 

WALTER — But you liked me a great deal — when we were 
fussing around in Nice. 

MARJORIE — I liked you then because I thought you were 
the kind of a man that I would always want to have — -near 
me. 

WALTER — I may not be exactly what you think you want, 
but I'm a whole lot above the average — and it doesn't do for a 
girl to be too particular these days — when men are getting migh'y 
scarce. 

MARJORIE — (Holding out her hand again) — Good-bye, 
Walter. 

WALTER — (Putting ring in his pocket) — Oh no! We won't 
say "good-bye" yet. Think it over. I won't call it off. I'll give 
you what your father would call — an option on me — ^for one — 
kiss. — (Advances to her). 

MARJORIE— (Holding him o#)— No! Thank you, just the 
same. 

WALTER — (Persisting) — Never mind the option. 

MARJORIE — (Retreating from him to davenport with a tone 
of finality) — Good-bye. 

WALTER — Oh, well, you've got my address. If I don't hear 
from you within a week or so, I'll drop 'round! — (With emphasis) 
— Au revoir. — (Walter exits C.E. to R. Bell buzzes in hallway. 
Blodgett presently crosses in hallway from L. to R. Marjorie stands 
L.C., looking after Walter for a moment. Then she turns slozvly, 
dejectedly to the davenport, takes letter from her breast, looks at it 
with a sigh, goes to fireplace, hunts for match-box, finds ornamental 
box of matches. Blodgett appears at C.E. from R.) 

BLODGETT — (Announcing) — -Mr. Sewall. — (Marjorie .puts 
down box of matches, and quickly restores letter to her breast. Enter 
ALBERT SEWALL, C.E. He is a large man, inclined to stoutness, 
middle-aged, energetic, hearty, jolly, with a big laugh, a little rough 



22 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



in manner, a Bohemian^ but not at all common. He wears evening 
dress, with a "tango" shirt. Marjorie turns as he enters. Blodgett 
withdraws from C.E. to L. in hallway. 

SEWALL — {Coming down C. and holding out his hands) — 
Ahhh ! You're Marjorie I feel it — I know it! You are! God 
bless you ! 

MARJORIE — {Taking his hand, smiling) — Yes, I'm Marjorie! 
Am I supposed to know you? 

SEWALL — {Holding her hand in both of his) — Naturally. 
Everybody knows me. I'm Sewall — Albert Sewall — Old Papa Sewall. 

MARJORIE — Oh, you're the great Sewall? — {Sewall laughs 
heartily) — You are/ I adore your music. I heard your opera in 
Paris — ^"The Order of the Rose." It was very, very beautiful. 

SEWALL — Don't — don't — my dear — talk like a young ladies' 
seminary ! No — no — you have more character — more flair. Permit 
me. — {Feels her head) — I thought so — you have the bump of music. 
We shall be friends. Good. Now, look me straight in the eye : 
What is the best part of my opera that you say is so — "beau-ti-ful?" 
— {Imitating her. Marjorie darts to the piano and plays a few bars 
from "Tristan and Isolde." He listens with delight ; then breaks in 
zvith enthusiasm) — Aaah ! Come her, my child! {Marjorie rises 
from piano. He scoops her up in an embrace) — Marvellous — you're 
marvellous ! Those fool critics — they had to admit that Old Papa 
Sewall could write serious music — but they did not know what was 
best — only you and Waldseemiller, of Munich, knew ! 

MKR^ORIE— {Pleased)— But I liked all of it. Oh, that lovely 
introduction to the second act — ^the dance in the third — it carried me 
off my feet. 

SEWALL — Naturally. I had a book — a libretto — that inspired 
me. Oh, my God — a book ! A book ! A book ! That's what I want 
— a book. I can write symphonies out of my head, waltzes out of 
my fingers — but an opera? I must have a book. If the book is bad 
— the music is no good. If the book is good — the music — that will 
be superb. I will guarantee that. But where am I to get a book 
that is worth a note — these days ? 

MARJORIE— I wish I could get you a book. 

SEWALL — I would give j'ou $10,000 for a good book. 

MARJORIE— Is that very much? 

SEWALL — It is a fabulous price — to pay in advance on royal- 
ties. Yes — we are so desperate — that is what we have done'. My 
managers. They have offered a prize of $10,000 for a book. I tell 
them — that will bring the genius out of his garret. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 23 



MARJORIE — Oooooh ! That's where they come from — isn't 
it? 

SEW ALL — Surely. That's where they grow — in garrets — when 
it's cold. 

MARJORIE — But there's always a little flame — inside of them 
— that keeps them warm. Perhaps some genius will send you an 
opera book for a Christmas present. 

SEWALL — Pray for me, little lady. . . . By-the-by, I've got 
a Christmas present for you. A wee bit of a song. — (Takes a small 
roll of manuscript from his pocket and hands it to her.) 
MARJORIE— (Delighted)— You're a dear. 
SEWALL — Written by my dear old self — and just for you! 
MARJORIE — (With a glance at the script) — This is a darling 
Christmas present. 

SEWALL— Read the verse. 
MARJORIE— (Reads the verse) 
"My Song, 

The cheering of the people rings 
'Round poets, master-minds and kinigs ! 
Their sweeping deeds, their feathered words. 
Fame sweeping ht,e whole world girds ! 
But let my praise mount high for one. 
Who has no fame for great deeds done, 
He spins no song, he rears no dome! 
Out of his heart, he builds a home ! 
He weaves no book, no measured thing, 
A woman's joy his harvesting! 
Healer he of a woman's scars — 
God's hand shall shrine his name in stars." 
(When she finishes, she looks up at Sewall, slowly with the tenderest 
sort of smile, holding the script to her breast) — I love that. 

SEWALL — I knew you would! — (Marjorie nods, holding script 
close to her breast) — Prodigious little idea — heigh? 

MARJORIE — (Nods, then touches him gently) — You're — you're 
wonderful ! 

SEWALL — Oh, I didn't write the verse. 
MARJORIE— No? Who did write it? 

SEWALL — Blessed if I know. Read it in a newspaper — tore 
it out — Just like me — left the author's name behind me. 

MARJORIE — I'd like to know the man who wrote that song. — 
(Looks at script). 

SEWALL — (Taking script from her and going toward piano 
R.C.) — Come — now! I'll play it — you sing it. 



24 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE — (Following Sewall to the piano) — But I don't 
sing. 

SEWALL — You'll sing this, young lady. — {Sits at piano) — It's 
as easy as — kissing! — (Plays the introduction. Marjorie stands be- 
side him) — The introduction! Now the song begins. I'll play it 
through for you first! — (Plays the song. When he finishes, he turns 
to Marjorie expectantly). 

MARJORIE — (Touching him) — I love that, too. 
SEWALL — Naturally ! Now ! Fill your little lungs, open your 
little iT.cuth, and sing your little head off. — (Plays introduction. 
Marjorie takes a very deep breath and holds it. Seivall looks about 
at her.) — I said — fill your lungs — not stuff them. — (Marjorie lets go 
her breath, laughing) — You know how to breathe, don't you? 
MARJORIE — Of course ; but I — I can't sing — for you. 
SEWALL — Is there anyone in particular that yon can sing for? 
MARJORIE— Myself. 

SEWALL — Very well, young lady — sing for Marjorie. 
MARJORIE— But you'll listen ! 

SEWALL — I? The accompanist never listens. — (Striking the 
opening chords) — Now! Begin! — (Singing) 
"The cheering of the people rings 
MARJORIE — (Picking up the song, singing at first timidly and 
then zvith more freedom and finally ivifh feeling). 
" 'Round poets, master-minds and kings. 
Their sweeping deeds, their feathered words, 
Fame gathering, the whole world girds ! 
But let my praise mount high for one. 
Who has no .fame for great deeds done, 
He spins no song, he rears no dome ! 
Out of his heart, he builds a home ! 
He weaves no book, no measured thing, 
A woman's joy his harvesting! 
Healer he of a woman's scars — 
(^od's h?nrl shall shrine h'3 np'"!? in r r"-s." 
(When she finishes, she stands motionless for a moment at the 
piano, under the spell of the song. Sewall zvatches her zvith a faint 
smile. She turns to him, holding out a hand to him) — Thank you 
for the song — I like it better than any Christmas present I can 
imagine. L's going to help to keep me from — from being lonely. 

SEWALL — (With an incredulous, jolly laugh) — Lonely? You 
— lonely? 

MARJORIE— .\ little— sometimes. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 25 



SEW ALL— What? With all of us?— your father's old friends? 

— (She looks up at him and laughs a little) — Now — what are you 
laughing about? Spill it out. 

MARJORIE — With so — so many elderly friends — I'm begin- 
ning to feel like the matron of an old man's home. (Sewall laughs 
heartily. Blodgett appears at CM. from L.) — What is it, Blodgett? 

BLODGETT— Your father, Miss— sent me to tell Mr. Sewall 
that his cocktail is getting warm. 

SEWALL — {Starting up from the piano suddenly) — Ah! What 
a calamity! You'll excuse me, Marjorie^-or those young dogs will 
be drinking themselves to 6.&z.i\\\-^{Sezvall exits C.E. to L., fol- 
lowed by Blodgett. Marjorie stands at piano, looking at the song for 
a moment. Then she turns C. with a sigh; slozvly takes letter from 
her breast, goes to fireplace; takes box of matches, sinks dozvn on 
rug in front of fireplace, reads letter, strikes match and lights letter 
— crying softly as she docs so; and places letter in fireplace. She 
sits there, huddled on the rug, watching the letter burn and crying 
softly. ROMNEY appears at L.U.E. He watches her for an instant 
and then conies softly down to R. end of davenport) . 

MARJORIE — (Feeling his presence, turning her head, without 
rising, starting as she sees him, speaking "with a little catch in her 
voice) — Romney. W — where did yon come from? 

ROMNEY — (Quietly, whimsically) — I was summoned to you 
by the spirit of that cremated — love-letter. 

'M.AR]0'KI¥.— (S ur prised, still crying a little)— L-love-lettev? 

ROMNEY — It's only love-letters that one burns and cries over. 

MARJORIE— I'm— not— crying. 

ROMNEY — I beg your pardon. 

MARJORIE— At le?.st— not r.bout him. 

ROMNEY— Oh ! 

MARJORIE — He was awfully nice — and funny — but — (Dabbing 
at her eyes). 

ROMNEY — He didn't measure up to standard. 

MARJORIE — (Nods, cries) — So — you — see — I wasn't — crying 
for him. It was my first — my only — 1-love letter. 

ROMNEY— But it won't be your last. 

MARJORIE — Oh, yes it will. My— my heart is — is frost-bitten. 

ROMNEY— If that were so — you should be crying little icicles ; 
but I'm sure they are warm little tears. Have a larger handkerchief. 

— (Ronincy whips handkerchief from his pocket and squatting near 
her hands it to her.) 

MARJORIE — Thank you.— -(Mops her eyes) — I can talk to you, 
Romney. — I was never quite sure about Walter. Now I know that 



26 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



I didn't — 1-love him. — (Puts out her hands to Romney. He helps 
her. rise). 

ROMNEY — You only wanted someone to love. I'll get you a 
white rabbit with pink eyes. I understand they are quite affection- 
ate. 

MARJORIE — I want someone — not something. 

ROMNEY — ^But a tame rabbit, or even a well-behaved bull-pup, 
is much less trouble than a man. 

MARJORIE — (Returning his handkerchief) — I am going to 
order my own menagerie' tomorrow ; but that's not what I want 
now. 

ROMNEY — Whatever you want, I'll get it for you. Have you 
any definite ideas on the subject. 

MARJORIE— I hadn't until tonight— (Suddenly)— Oh, I must 
show you. — (Starts across stage to piano) — Mr. Sewall brought me 
a song. 

ROMNEY — (Following her) — I thought I heard you singing. 

MARJORIE — (Picking up song from piano) — Such a dear song 
— he wrote the music himself — for me — for Christmas. But the 
words — the verse — he doesn't know who wrote them. They're about 
the most wonderful kind of man. Only I'm afraid he doesn't exist! 
. . . See! — (Hands song to Romney. They are at the piano). 

ROMNEY — (With a patronizing but sympathetic smile, takes 
the song, glances at it, purses his brows suddenly, gives a subdued 
exclamation of surprise). — Huh! — (Glances over song). 

MARJORIE— Isn't it too adorable? 

ROMNEY — I've always liked it! — (Marjorie looks at him, 
puzzled). — ^I know the chap who wrote it! 

M.KR.'iORlE— (Surprised, excited) — Oh — if he should be a — a 
friend of yours ! 

ROMNEY— He— he was ! — (Preoccupied) — Gad ! It's the- 
■strangest thing — his song falling into your hands ! . . . Come here. 
— (Leads Marjorie to the windozvs R., parts curtains and points out 
down stage) — -You see this dreadful old house next door? 

MARJORIE — Is that the one you wrote me about — where they 
keep boarders, or lodgers, or something, just to annoy Pa-pa because 
he wouldn't pay a ridiculous price for it? 

ROMNEY — Yes. In that shabby rookery — there's where Quin- 
tard lives. 

MARJORIE— Quintard ? 

ROMNEY — The lad who wrote your song — lives up there — like 
Cinderella, in the attic. — (Placing Marjorie close to the window) — 
The gable touches our roof. You can see the light from his dormer 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 27 



window. — (Marjorie stands against the window, looking upward) — 
It's cold and forlorn and lonely up there. 

MARJORIE — (After a pause)— A Cinderella-man. — (Romney 
leaves Marjorie at the window, goes to piano, sets up song, and 
begins to play it softly. Marjorie turns slowly from the window to 
the R. side of the piano). — Romney! — {He stops playing) — Why 
does he live up there? Is he so dreadfully poor? 

ROMNEY — So poor — that I don't think he gets enough to eat. 

MARJORIE — ^Oh, Romney! Why don't you do something for 
him? 

ROMNEY — He won't let me. Young idiot won't take a penny. 
You never knew anyone so proud as Tony. Once — I offered him a 
little loan : he bristled up like a porcupine. I've had an awful row 
with him — just because I paid his landlady a month's rent without his 
knowing it. It was only a few dollars, but whc'n he heard of it — he 
sent the money back to me, like a shot — with thanks. That was some 
weeks ago. I haven't dared to visit him since. 

MARJORIE— But hasn't he any family? 

ROMNEY — Not even a cat. He did have a rich old uncle — 
miserable old cuss — wanted Tony to help him manufacture talcum 
powder — Tony refused — he wanted to write things. The old scoun- 
drel cut Tony out of his will — and died. 

MARJORIE— The beast. 

ROMNEY — Yes. Uncle was a throw-back — the only Quintard 
I didn't like. Gentle folks — dear people. Tony's one of the best of 
them. And he's nothing but a boy. 

MARJORIE — {Warmly) — You were horrid to quarrel with 
him. 

ROMNEY — I didn't quarrel with him — he quarrelled with me. 

MARJORIE — It was your fault. You — -you weren't tactful — 
and you must be very — oh ever so very tactful with anyone so poor 
and sensitive and — and lonely. 

ROMNEY — But he was so silly about it — such a jackass. 

MARJORIE— (PFar?n73))—He's not a jackass. 

ROMNEY — You don't know him. Why, he absolutely disap- 
peared after his uncle's death — hid himself, like a mole. For over 
a year I didn't know what had become of him. Then I saw this 
poem, signed by him, in a magazine. The editor gave me his 
address. 

MARJORIE — {Warmly) — Why didn't you make the editor buy 
a whole lot of his poems? 

ROMNEY — If I'd suggested it the editor would probably have 
kicked me out of his office. 



28 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 

MARJORIE — He's a gentleman — isn't he? 

ROMNEY— The editor? 

MARJORIE— No— the Cinderella-man. 

ROMNEY— To the tips of his fingers. 

MARJORIE — Then I shall invite him to dinner. 

ROMNEY — Charming thought, but he won't accept. 

MARJORIE— Why won't he? 

ROMNEY — He refused an invitation from me, an old friend. 
Do you imagine he'll accept one from a stranger ? 

MARJORIE— (Regretfully)— No— o\ He wouldn't. I must 
think of something else. 

ROMNEY — I'd like to do something for him — well, for Christ- 
mas, you know. 

MARJORIE — (Heart-stricken) — Oh, Romney — Christmas ! 
Pa-pa will load me with presents — all sorts of things — that'll cost a 
lot of mone}' — and that I won't care for. A.nd there's that poor, 
lonely, little Cinderella-man up there. He'll have nothing. Romney, 
I can't stand it — I can't stand it. 

ROMNEY — I'm glad you can't. It will give you somiething new 
and vital to think about — someone who must feel lonelier than you 
do. You may even think of a way to help him. 

MARJORIE — I must. I will. — (Goes to window, looks up at 
house next door. Romney plays a few bars of the song) — Romney! 
I want you to go to him tomorrow — make up with him— ^find out 
what he needs most. Don't ask him. Look around and see for your- 
self. Then come back immediatel}^ and tell me. 

ROMNEY — What's stirring in that funny little head of yours? 

MARJORIE — (Happily, excitedly, coming back to piano) — I've 
thought of a way of giving him a Christmas. Oh, Romney! I'll do 
it — I will do it! Promise me that you'll go — promise me. — (Caner, 
Thayer and Sewall appear at C.E. standing in a row). 

ROMNEY— I promise. 

CANER — Are you two coming to dinner? 

SEWALL — Must the old men's home dine without its patron? 

THAYER — Our hearts are on your plate. Mademoiselle. 

ROMNEY — I see, I've missed the second round of cocktails. 
We're coming. — (Caner, Thayer and Sewall turn from C.E. and dis- 
appear through hallway to L.) 

MARJORIE — (To Romney) — Go on — there's a dear. (Romney 
looks at her curiously, puzzled, then with a little bow, he turns from 
the piano and exits C.E. to L. Marjorie goes slowly to the window. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 29 



parts the curtains, looks upward in silence for a minute, with an 
expression of great tenderness as she repeats softly and with deep 
feeling the following lines of the song) — 

"He spins no song, he rears no dome, 
Out of his heart he builds a home!" 

(She stands there with a suspicion of tears in her eyes as the curtain 
falls slozvly) . 



CURTAIN. 



30 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



ACT II 

(The Afternoon of the Next Day.) 

SCENE: 

The attic of the house next door to Caner's. The ceiling of 
the attic is low and slopes down to a broad double dormer at the 
back. The window needs washing. Through the windozv one sees 
roofs, gables, chimneys, a tall church spire above a "rose" window, a 
clock tower. There is snow over everything, and' the light outside is 
the cold blue light of a winter's afternoon. The interior of the attic 
and all the furnishings are shabby and forlorn. The rough bea^ns 
and unplastered walls are exposed. The only entrance is on the L. 
through an open trap which is railed in up stage and on the' side. 
Thus entrances and exits are made midway down stage on the L. 
An old kitchen table stands tip stage just to the R. of C. in the light 
of the window. A broken scrap-basket under the table. A trunk is 
pushed against the middle of the rail L. Above the trap and against 
the L. wall, a high shelf, from which hangs an old calico curtain. In 
the centre of the stage a heat register is sunk in the middle of the 
floor R. and midway down stage, hangs an old "Gloucester" ham- 
mock, made up as a bed and covered with an old grey army blanket. 
Against the wall R. below the hammock, a wash-stand with pitcher 
and basin, soap, and a glass holding tooth and nail brushes; a razor 
and a towel. Mirror over wash-stand. A shoe by the register, an- 
other down R.C. Hat on floor L., overcoat on trunk. 

ANTHONY QUINT ARD is discovered writing at the table, 
occupying the only chair in the attic. He is a young man, slender, 
not tall, but well-made. He wears a well-cut but shabby sack-suit, a 
white shirt tvith soft collar attached, a bright-colored old four-in- 
hand scarf, a sweater under his coat, a pair of dilapidated Turkish 
slippers. For all his poverty he is cheerful, possesses a jolly sense 
of humor. The table before him is covered zvith the sheets of the 
manuscript upon which he is working; a bottle of ink, a blotter, a 
box of matches, a pipe, a can of tobacco. He is not getting on well 
with his work. He mechanically fills his pipe and tries to light it 
with a burnt match. He smiles at his mistakes, takes match from 
box and lights pipe. He starts to write again, stops in a moment, 
shivers. It is cold, very cold. He rises and goes C. to interview the 
register. It is plain that if there is any heat ascending it is a ridicu- 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 31 



lously inadequate amount. He ponders. A cheerful idea strikes him. 
He goes to the shelf in the L. upper corner, parts the calico curtain, 
and fetches down an old Persian-looking dressing-gown. He puts 
it on with great satisfaction. Then he takes an old turban from the 
shelf and puts it on with equal satisfaction. He returns to the table 
to work, but inspiration fails hiin. He rises, paces the stage, goes to 
the window, rubs the frost off the. pane, looks out. He stands there 
for a moment. An inspiration comes to him. He hurriedly turns to 
table and begins to write at a great rate. Presently a knock is heard 
from, below on the L. Tony pays no attention. The knock is re- 
peated). 

TONY — {Without looking up, grozvting) — Go away! 

PRIMROSE — {From below L.) — It's most important, sir. 

TONY — {Impatiently) — Nothing's important — except my work! 
— {More impatiently) — Confound you — I had just got a wireless 
from inspiration — and you break in — Now you've roused my curios- 
ity — So — come up and annoy me. — {The head and shoulders of 
PRIMROSE appear above the trap L. He is a short, thick-set bibu- 
lous-looking old servant, shabbily dressed. In his day he has been 
an exceedingly well-trained servant, and still retains the airs and 
manners of such a one). 

PRIMROSE — {In a husky voice, most apologetic) — I beg par- 
don, Mr. Quintard, for botherin' you — but — 

TONY — Don't stand there like a bear in a pit. 

PRIMROSE — Thank you, sir. — {He comes up to the top step 
and leans wearily over the rail) — I wouldn't have thought of both- 
erin' you 

TONY- — {Che erf filly) — Eliminate the preface. Primrose, and 
unwind your tale. 

PRIMROSE — Well, sir — he's waitin' below — a gentleman. 

TONY — You're quite sure he's a gentleman? 

PRIMROSE— Oh, yes, sir. He has on a fur coat. 

TONY — Ah ! Could you — eh — get me the coat and leave the 
gentleman? 

PRIMROSE — I'm afraid not, sir. The gentleman is wearing 
the coat. 

TONY — He knew where he was coming. Is it Cooke or Peary? 

PRIMROSE — I couldn't say, sir. He came in a motor car with 
a swell chauffeur — he was wearin' a fur coat too. ' ( With the instinct 
of a good servant, he comes up on the stage and picks up the shoe 
down R. Then picks up shoe by register, and hands pair of shoes 
to Tony, who takes off slippers and gives them to Primrose. Prim- 
rose places slippers in L.U. corner). 



32 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY- — (Putting on shoes) — Then how did you know which 
was the gentleman? 

PRIMROSE — The gentleman wears his fur inside — the chauf- 
feur outside. You wore yours inside, sir. — (He shakes his head 
sadly, chokes back a sob, picks up shabby overcoat from trunk, 
shakes it and brushes it down carefully with his hand, and hangs it 
up in L.U. corner). 

TONY — (Rising) — Don't mention it. It's a well-known econ- 
omic fact, Primrose, that you can't wear your fur coat and eat it 
too. But what's your opinon about our fur-lined visitors? 

PRIMROSE — (Picking up hat from below trunk and placing it 
on shelf in upper L. corner) — I think it would be safe to let him 
up, sir. 

TONY — (Comes down C. to register) — I'll take your word for 
it. Show him up. 

PRIMROSE— (Starting down L.)— Yes, sir. 

TONY — (Holding hand over register) — I could do with a whiff 
of heat. Suppose you go down to the uttermost depths of this habi- 
tation and sneak a spoonful of anthracite into the furnace. But don't 
let the great She-Bear catch you — she might raise my rent. 

PRIMROSE — So she might, sir. Thank you, sir. — (Primrose 
exits. Tony takes off his Persian robe and is about to fling it on 
the trunk, when he remembers to be tidy, and hangs it up under 
the curtain, L.U. corner, and places turban on shelf. Romney Evans 
comes up through the trap, carrying a derby hat and stick, wearing 
a fur coat and chamois gloves; cutaway coat and striped trousers 
under overcoat.) 

TONY — (Cordially coming down L. and offering his hand) — 
Hello, Romney ! 

RO'WNEY~(Pleascd at his greeting)— Yi&Wo, Tony! (They 
shake hands zvarmly). 

TONY My apologies for keeping you waiting — I didn't know 

it was you. 

ROMNEY — My fault — I should have sent up my name — only I 
was afraid you — you wouldn't see me. 

TONY — Nonsense! We understand each other — now. Awfully 
good of you to come again. Your hat. — (Takes his hat and stick) — 

I'd ask you to take off your coat but I'm afraid you're not used to 

these high altitudes. — (Places hat on pitcher on wash-stand R. and 
lays cane across basin). 

ROMNEY — It is rather like out-of-doors up here. 

TONY — Ah, you notice that — the effect ! Good ! Some people 
like to sleep out-of-doors. I like to work out-of-doors ; but that isn't 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 33 



practical at this season of the year — so I manage to have it cool up 
here — keeps my brain active — {Looks at an old thermometer with an 
advertisement on it hung on wall by wash-stand) — No! It's all right! 
— (Turns C. and holds hand over register) — I was afraid my man 
would make it too hot for me. He has a passion for heat. — (Picks 
up chair from his table and brings it down L.C.) — Have the chair — 
it's still fairly warm. 

ROMNEY — (Sittirig and taking out a gold, cigarette case) — 
Have a cigarette? 

TONY — (With relish, taking one) — Thanks — (Getting match 
from table) — Haven't smoked a cigarette in days — have to smoke a 
pipe when I'm working. — (Strikes match and lights Romney's cig- 
arette, and then very carefully lights his own with the same match. 
Tony sits on trunk L.) 

ROMNEY. — By the way, I have a friend — a neighbor of yours 
— who's taken a sudden interest in your work — quite smitten with 
that verse of yours, "My Song." 

TONY — Neighbor? Perhaps I know him by sight. 

ROMNEY— It isn't a he— it's a she. 

TONY — Ah ! Enter romance — very early in the first chapter. 
Now don't spoil it by giving me facts. Let me improvise. It's the 
Veiled Princess. 

ROMNEY— Who's the Veiled Princess ? 

TONY — The little billionairess — she arrived next door — last 
night in the gloaming. 

ROMNEY — So you've heard about her. 

TONY — My journal brings me the fashionable news of the 
street. 

ROMNEY— Your journal? 

TONY — Primrose — my man — you noticed him? He's my jour- 
nal — my court gazette — morning and evening — and occasionally an 
extra-most reliable. Serves me in the dual capacity of journal and 
valet, whether I will have it or not. His real business in life is 
butling and janitoring for the Great She-Bear. You noticed her too 
— ^the last time you were here — I'm deathly afraid of her. I try to 
keep my door locked. She's likely to come in and eat me some 
night just because I've forgotten to pay the rent. 

ROMNEY — But you were talking of the Veiled Princess 

TONY — Oh, yes. My journal informs me that she arrived last 
night in her gasoline chariot — heavily veiled — that she is the only 
daughter of the king of commerce next door ■ 

ROMNEY— Wouldn't youTike to meet her? 

TONY — Got her in your pocket? 



34 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



ROMNEY— Not— today. 

TONY — Too bad. But, after all — what have I to do with veiled 
princesses? 

ROMNEY— Nothing! .That's the trouble. You write about 
them — probably in the most intimate sort of way — but you don't 
know them. Think how much better you could write about them if 
you knew — ^just one. 

TONY — You're mistaken, my dear Romney. I can't imagine 
them much better than they are. Once upon a time, in my days of 
affluent slavery, I knew a princess — I had to entertain her for almost 
an hour — it makes me ache to think of it. 

ROMNEY — But you forgot — the Veiled Princess likes your 
song. 

TONY — You're a sly old dog — but I'm impervious to flattery. 

ROMNEY — But when a charming young woman expresses a 
desire to meet you 

TONY — The only safe procedure is to scurry up to the turret 
of your castle and bolt the door after you. 

ROMNEY — You mustn't think that she's the sort that would 
run after you. No, indeed. 

TONY — Thank heaven ! I'm saved ! 

ROMNEY— But I should think that when you're told that there 
is a young person next door who appreciates and is interested in 
your work, you'd be only too glad to have a chance to meet her. 

TONY — I'm sure it's very friendly and delightful of you and 
the Veiled Princess to think of me — I am flattered — and I hope that 
you will convey my sincere thanks to her — but, having forgotten my 
party manners and having mislaid rhy party clothes, I most regret- 
fully and respectfuly decline your cordial invitation. With the com- 
pliments of the season, I remain, your obedient servant, Anthony 
Quintard. 

ROMNEY — (Rising, stalking about the attic, looking at every- 
thing zvith the intention of remembering details) — Tony, you're a 
jackass. 

TONY — The very word of my late, but not lamented, uncle. 

ROMNEY — What's the use of your freezing to death in this 
miserable garret 

TONY — (Cheerfully) — But I'm not freezing to death — I'm do- 
ing a most important piece of work — or I was, until you so politely 
interrupted me. 

ROA'INEY — I doubt its importance. 

TONY — (Gaily) — Oh, say not so — say not so. 

ROMNEY — You could be living, comfortable, respectably 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 35 



TONY — Respectably! Why this is the most moral lodgery in 
New York. The great She-bear is a Puritan of the most violent 
type. She cast out a perfectly good typist from the floor below be- 
cause her alleged brother called on a Saturday evening. 

ROMNEY — You know what I mean. You should and could be 
living among people of your own kind, if you would only accept a 
certain position that I have waiting for you 

TONY — In a pickle factory. Thank you — but no. 

ROMNEY — In a broker's office^at a good salary 

TONY — [Going to register, and trying to nvrr.t himself)—! 
wouldn't take it at any price — I had that out with you once — don't 
let us start cussing each other again. ■ You can't convince me any 
more than I can make you understand that I must do the thing that's 
in me to do — without compromise. Otherwise I'm a failure. 

ROMNEY — {Pacing up and down R.) — I can't see that you're 
making much of a success as it is. 

TONY — {Hurt) — No o! — {Recovering himself, warmly) — 

But I'm not a failure yet — and I won't be. It would take more than 
your say so — to shake my faith in myself. — {Turns up to dormer 
window) . 

ROMNEY — {Picks up hat and stick from wash-stand ; goes up 
to Tony, laying his hand on Tony's shoulder) — I'm sorry, Tony. I 
didn't come up here to hurt you. I thought that perhaps I could be 
the means of bringing a new friend into your life — the Veiled 
Princess. She's a dear thing. I even hoped that you two might- 
might grow to care for each other — {Tony zvheels about, and looks 
at Roinney zvith amazement) — Yes! And why not? You're the 
only man I know that's good enough for her. 

TONY — {Sincerely) — It's very decent of you, Rom.ney, to say 
that. — {Strongly) — But you know I have the utmost contempt for 
the sort of men who marry rich girls— it's a kind of prostitution — 
that's what it is. Your self-respect for a — meal-ticket. 

ROMNEY— That's all right, Tony, T understand— (0#cr.f his 
hand) . 

TONY — {Taking his hand and walking dozvn L. with him) — 
When you're 'round this way again — drop up. And, oh, my compli- 
ments and thanks to the Princess. 

ROMNEY — I'll deliver them at once. — {Roinney starts down 
through the trap L., adding as he descends) — So long, old boy. 

TONY — {Leaning over rail) — Merry Christmas, old top. 

ROMNEY — {Now unseen, from below) — Same to you. {Sound ' 
of door closing belozv. Tony sinks down on the trunk, crushed, fear- 
ful that he is a failure. Knock heard below. It is repeated.) 



36 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY — (Wearily) — Come in! — (Primrose rises through the 
trap). 

PRIMROSE — (Looking at Tony, noting his dejection) — Good 
Lord, sir. You ain't gone and got the willies again. 

TONY— (G/oowz'/j))— What? 
PRIMROSE — (With a near-sob) — The willies. You have got 
'em! 

TONY — (Rousing himself) — Shut up, you old cry-baby! — 
(Rising) — Are you any judge of an opera Libretto? 

PRIMROSE — I might be — if I knew what it was. 

TONY — A libretto — that's the book of an opera — the words — in 
grand opera they're sometimes sung — in light opera — occasionally. 

PRIMROSE — I saw an opera once — the devil was in it. 

TONY — Well, there a devil in mine — a charming, romantic 
devil — but he's house-broken in the last act. 

PRIMROSE — (With atve) — You, sir, are writin' of an opera? 

TONY — Verily — and I tell you in confidence, that I have burst 
many a button in the effort to write something original. It was 
to be a masterpiece — but now, I wonder. I thought it was going to 
work the miracle for me. And it shall. — (Goes up to table and 
picks up manuscript) — Primrose, you see this? It's going to bring 
me $10,000 ; do you understand, $10,000. 

PRIMROSE — (Slowly grinning, thinking that Tony is making 
fun)— Is that all? 

TONY — I see the flicker of incredulence in your watery but 
kindly eye ; and I don't blame you. Ten thousand dollars. It's fabu- 
lous ! 

PRIMROSE— Very likely, sir. 

TONY — I assure you it is. Come hither — unbeliever. — (Prim- 
rose approaches Tony) — Every page is worth not less than — eh — 
fifty dollars. 

PRIMROSE — (Grinning, unbelievingly) — I'm afraid you've got 
somethin' worse 'an the willies — now sir. 

TONY — Still unconvinced — ^then behold! — (Picks up a news- 
paper clipping from under the ink-bottle) — If you'll read that. 

PRIMROSE — (Takes the clipping, fishes out a pair of glasses, 
and reads the clipping with increasing wonder) — Well I'm blowed. 
And this here opry o' yours goin' to get the prize? 

TONY — Such is our hope. — (Takes clipping from him.) 

PRIMROSE— (/n a whisper)— Ten thousan' dollars! (With 
shy curiosity) — L-leave me look at it, sir. — (Tony hands him the 
manuscript. Primrose reads) — "The Calif looks at her with pro- 
found admiration. She lowers her head, but lets her eyes fly up at 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN Z7 



him through the tops of her lids." — {Primrose is dumbfounded. He 
looks at Tony as though he thought Tony were mad). 

TONY — It CAN be done. Like this. — {Illustrates: drops his 
head in a coy, maidenly fashion, rolling up his eyes, and looking 
coquettishly at Primrose) . 

PRIMROSE — {Glances at him skeptically, and then reads from 
manuscript) — "Calif: Your eyes illuminate the path to my soul's 
dark chamber." — {Primrose glances at Tony; then reads) — "He re- 
peats the serenade." — {Incredibly) — So that's an opery book? And 
it's goin' to get you ten thousand dollars? 

TONY — {Taking the manuscript from him) — Without a doubt. 
The only difficulty is to get the job done in time. It's only eight 
days until January first. I've got to work like the devil. That means 
the consumption of much oil. We must consider the oil-question. 

PRIMROSE — You can't work on oil, sir. That gentleman friend 
of yours — him in the fur coat — ^didn't happen to lend you a fiver or a 
somethin' — did he? 

TONY — He's not a banker, my dear Primrose. Besides what 
do we want with money — we paid the rent last week and lived in 
wantonness on that sonnet. 

PRIMROSE — But you ain't paid no rent this week — and the 
thing you calls the "larder" has got nothin' in it. 

TONY — {Casting an eye about the room cheerfully) — The 
trunk. We've eaten everything in it — why not eat the trunk itself? 

PRIMROSE — It wouldn't pay to cart it away, sir. 

TONY — {Gaily) — Then have a look about — there must be some- 
thing negotiable that we've overlooked — {Both look around the room. 
Tony goes to shelf L.U. corner and looks under the curtains. Prim- 
rose goes to washstand and looks into it, opens drawer. Tony dis- 
covers a fancy waistcoat, light in color, "Loud" in pattern.) 

TONY— Ah \— {Waving vest)— A find— a find. 

PRIMROSE — There's a big ink-spot on it, sir. 

TONY — Yes, I know — a fountain pen did it — I've never carried 
one since. 

PRIMROSE — You haven't got the pen, have you? 

TONY — Unfortunately, in a moment of anger I threw it away. 
But see here, with the coat buttoned, the spot doesn't show — {Illus- 
trates) . 

PRIMROSE — What would be the good of a vest like that, sir, 
if you couldn't wear your coat open? 

TONY — That might admit of some discussion, but — {Flings 
waistcoat into L.U. corner). 



38 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



PRIMROSE — {Taking a little worn, gold locket from the wash- 
stand drawer) — Here's somethin' more likely — looks as though it 
might be gold. — {Holds it out in the palm of his hand to Tony). 

TONY- — -{Coming quickly down stage to him) — That? {Sud- 
denly realising what it is, snatches it from him almost in anger) — 
No — no! 

PRIMROSE— It's gold— ain't it? 

TONY— {Looking at it)— Y-e-s 

PRIMROSE — jYou'se better leave me soak it — what's the good 
of it kicking around your drawer there? 

TONY — ^It's a lot of good — good luck, I mean. 

PRIMROSE — It ain't brought you much luck as I can see. 

TONY— But it will — it will — and even if it shouldn't — {Puts it 
carefully in his waistcoat pocket). 

PRIMROSE — It would bring three or four dollars, mebbe — 
enough to keep you goin' until the opry's done. 

TONY — {With a smile, shaking his head) — There are some 
things I can't eat, Primrose. — {Takes locket from his pocket, opens it 
and hands it to Primrose. Privirose looks at it, fishes out his glasses, 
looks at it closely again, takes off glasses and looks studiously at 
Tony). 

PRIMROSE — It's your mother. — {Tony nods. Primrose looks 
at locket again, then hands it to Tony) — You're the" spittin' image of 
her. — {Gives a gulp, as though he were about to weep). 

TONY — {Putting locket in his waistcoat pocket, and quickly 
giving Primrose a pat on the back) — Don't cry about it — she wasn't 
your mother. 

PRIMROSE — {Trying to control himself) — But I can't help 
thinkin' what she'd be thinkin' — lookin' down on her son — a gentle- 
man — and him goin' to work on his opera on an empty stummick. 

TONY — It would be much worse if I were going to work on 
an empty head. Now trot along. That thistledowny, evanescen'; thing 
we call inspiration is hovering, signalling to my genius. 

PRIMROSE— {Going to the trap down L.)— Yes, sir. Thank 
you, sir. — {He puts his hand in his pocket, takes out handkerchief 
and with it an unopened letter. He starts. Tony has turned up 
stage, taking the chair from the register with him) — I beg pardon, 
sir — here's a letter I forgot to give you. 

TONY — {Surprised) — A letter? — {Comes down stage) — Ah! 

PRIMROSE — {Handing him the letter) — It came in the last 
mail — that's what I come up for — to give it to you — only — 

TONY— {Looking at envelope in surprise)- — From the Fulton 
National Bank. Primrose, once upon a time I had funds — money — 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 39 



real money in that bank, and all I had to do to get it was to write a 
cheque. — {He opens envelope.) 

PRIMROSE— Yes, sir. 

TONY — {Glancing through letter) — This seems to be from the 
cashier. He begins very affectionately : "Dear Sir : You will 
understand that it is a rule with this bank to carry no accounts 
which do not maintain an average balance of $500 or over. For the 
past twenty-one months, your balance has been three dollars and 
seventeen cents. Kindly close your account at your earliest conven- 
ience by withdrawing your balance, and oblige — " — {Tony cries out 
joyfully — Hahlahhah ! I have a balance to my credit of Three-seven- 
teen ! Do you get that, Primrose? — {Rushes up to dormer window 
and looks out). 

PRIMROSE — There's three dollars and seventeen cents of yours 
in the bank, sir? 

TONY — A fortune ! A fortune ! And it's ten minutes to three. 
Call me a taxi. I mean get me my overcoat — where's my hat. — {He 
runs about the stage looking for his hat, zvhile Primrose gets his 
coat and hat front under the curtain L.U. corner) — Banks close at 
three on the dot. 

PRIMROSE — {Coming down C.) — Here's your things, sir. 

TONY — {Helped into overcoat by Primrose) — We shall have a 
feast tomorrow — a feast. What is tomorrow? Christmas! We 
shall dine in state, my good Primrose. — {Snatches his hat frotn Prim- 
rose and starts on a run dozvn the stairs) — Elijah had his ravens — 
Quintard has his bankers. — {Tony disappears through the trap. 
Sound of door slammed below. Primrose, overcome, sinks down on 
trunk. In a moment he rises, tidies up the place, smoothes the 
blanket on the "Gloucester" hammock and pats the pillow affection- 
ately; goes to the table, looks at manuscript, brushing up the spilled 
tobacco, and making the table neat without disturbing the papers. 
The Great SHE-BEAR suddenly appears through trap L. She is a 
huge, towering, malevolent, untidy, middle-a'ged woman). 

SHE-BEAR — {Wrath fully, in a big voice) — So this is where 
you're loafing, you good-for-nothing lump ! 

PRIMROSE — {Surprised, starting from table. He is in deadly 
fear of her; but does his best to "buck up") — No — no, mum. I was 
only tidyin' up a bit after Mr. Quintard. 

SHE-BEAR — {Stepping up on stage L.) — Do I pay you for 
foolin' around up here? 

PRIMROSE— I don't know, mum— I 



40 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



SHE-BEAR— (Gom(7 L.C.)— You don't know? Well, I'll tell 
you — once and for all, understand me : I don't pay nobody nothing 
for what I don't get. 

PRIMROSE— I— I didn't think you'd mind. 

SHE-BEAR — You've got another think comin' to you. — (Em- 
phatically, slapping one huge hand with the other) — If any of my 
roomers wants you to clean up for 'em — they've got to settle first 
with me. 

PRIMROSE — Mr. Quintard would — most cheerful — if he could 
— he's got a beautiful disposition, mum. 

SHE-BEAR — Beautiful is as beautiful pays: That's my motto. 
And what I want to know is — what do you get for waitin' on him — 
hand and feet. 

PRIMROSE — {With a beatific smile)- — I couldn't tell you, mum. 

SHE-BEAR — (Hotly) — You tell me double quick — or I'll know 
the reason why. 

PRIMROSE— Very well, mum, I'll do me best: It's like this: 
Did you ever get very close — in a confidential position — to a real 
gentleman? 

SHE-BEAR— I should say not. 

PRIMROSE— I didn't think you had. Well, mum, I was 
brung up in a gentleman's family — from scullery boy to butler, in the 
old country; and I served me turn, too, as a gentleman's gentleman. 

SHE-BEAR — (With a sarcastic roar of laughter) — You — a gen- 
tleman's gentleman — whatever that is. 

PRIMROSE — Yes mum — and there's the point I'm makin'. It 
means a lot to me to be close to one of me own agin — just to hear a 
gentleman's voice — to have him treat me like a human bein' an' a 
friend — still keepin' me in my place, mum. 

SHE-BEAR— So that's all you get out of him— is it? 

PRIMROSE — It's more an' enough for me. 

SHE-BEAR — He never gives you a tip and you call him a 
gentleman. 

PRIMROSE — You don't judge his sort by their tips — it's their 
treatment. 

SHE-BEAR — (Snorting, sarcastically, contemptuously) — He 
must be a regular swell. 

PRIMROSE— I'm not fit to hang up his pants ! 

SHE-BEAR — But you think you're too high and mighty to clean 
my cuspidors ! Well, you begin on them today. I'll learn you. 
Come on, now. — (Waves to the trap) — You've been loafin' long 
enough. You can start with the china one in the parlor — and mind 
you don't break it. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 41 



PRIMROSE — {Going to trap) — I wasn't engaged to clean cus- 
pidors. 

SHE-BEAR — {Stopping a few steps dozvn trap) — If you want a 
better job, you know where you can get it, and you can take it from 
me, it isn't every landlady that's goin' to put up with an old rum- 
hound like you. 

PRIMROSE — (Starting down trap after her) — -I ain't touched 
a drop for a week — Mr. Quintard's reformin' me. 

SHE-BEAR — {Only her head and shoulders showing above 
trap)- — If he knew how ycu got fired from one place and another 
because you couldn't keep sober — {Disappears down trap). 

PRIMROSE — {Going down trap after her) — Mr. Quintard 
knows all about me, but he never reminds me how I come to be 
what I am. That's the difference between you and a gentleman. — 
{Exeunt Primrose and She-Bear. Noise of door closing below). 

{MARJORIE CANER appears at the dorther window, coming 
from R. She looks in through the glass for a moment, then raises 
the sash, looks in and listens. She wears a "Liberty" cloak of some 
soft grey material ivith the hood over her head; a violet chiffon 
scarf, a simple, girlish dress, a small, frilled apron, grey stockings 
and grey slippers). 

{She retreats from the window to R., but reappears immediately 
and lifts a large basket, with wicker lids, over the sill and sets it on 
the floor. She climbs in through the zvindow with care ; softly shuts 
window after her. It is cold. She gives a swift look about the attic, 
runs to the trap, looks down, listens. She turns and surveys the attic, 
pitying the meanness of the place. Then she drags the basket down 
to the register; opens it, and softly singing the song she sings in 
Act I., takes out holly and greens and szuiftly decorates the room 
zvith them. Takes out a piece of mistletoe. Laughing softly, she 
hangs it on a beam. She is enjoying herself hugely; occasionally 
she tip-toes to the trap and listens. She keeps on the cloak, but 
throws back the hood. From basket she takes a small white table- 
cloth; looks at the table, sees that it is covered with manuscript, etc. 
Then decides to spread cloth on trunk. She returns to basket, takes 
out pots of jam, and marmalade, a sausage tied with a red ribbon, a 
cold chicken festively decorated, a Christmas cake, loaf of brown 
bread, crock of baked beans, tea-caddy spirit lamp, small copper 
kettle, plate of dainty sandwiches, cookies. These she arranges on 
the trunk, and surveys her work with delight) . 

{Now she fills the kettle from the pitcher on the wash-stand; 
gets a match from, the table, lights the lamp and sets the kettle on it. 
This is all a lark for her. She dives into the basket again, takes out 



42 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



a large box of cigarettes, sets on table. Then a pink and white com- 
fortable, which she spreads on the "Gloucester" hammock. Studies 
the effort with rapture. Then she pats the pillow. As she returns to 
the basket, she starts, goes to the trap, leans over — listening. Then 
suddenly darts to window. Tries to open it. It sticks resisting her 
efforts. In a panic, she looks about for a place to hide — darts behind 
the calico curtain L.U. in corner. Only the tips of her grey pumps 
show beneath the curtain). 

(Totiy enters through the trap, with a loaf of bread sticking out 
of the top of a bag, a box of crackers, a can of soup, and a Christ- 
mas-looking bo.x. He is amazed at the sight of the food on the trunk 
— comically amazed. He cannot believe his eyes — cannot believe that 
it is real. He sniffs it, drops his packages on the floor below the 
trunk. He twists off a leg of the chicken. Takes a bite. It is real- 
it is delicious. Still holding the drumstick, he examines everything 
on the tru7ik, with growing wonder. Notes the tea service. He is 
overcome with this largess of food — and such food. Touches the 
tea-kettle; burns his finger. It is too much. He is going quite mad. 
All the while he is industriously gnawing the drum-stick. He con- 
cludes, yes, he is mad. He ttirns to the trap). 

TONY — {Calling at the top of his voice) — Primrose! (Goes 
down through the trap calling) — Primrose! Primrose! Primrose! 

(Marjorie peeps from behind the curtain in alarm. She is un- 
certain as to what she should do — zvhether to try the window again, 
or remain. All the while Tony is heard below calling: "Primrose! 
Primrose!" Marjories decides to try the window. She starts to- 
zvard it; then she hears Tony returning up the stairs, and hides be- 
hind the curtain again. Only her grey pumps show beneath the cur- 
tain). 

(Tony reappears from the trap. As he comes up he notices 
the holly and greens, looks about the attic in zvonder, trips over the 
basket C. opens it and takes out a silk muffler ; gazes at it in mysti- 
fication — ties it about his neck. Having cleaned the drum-stick, he 
drops it in the waste-basket under the table. Returns to the trunk. 
He is fascinated with the tea-service. Looks into the caddy; the 
sugar bozvl; pats the sausage; helps himself to a sandwich. Knock 
at door below). 

TONY — (Excitedly) — Come up! Come up! — (Goes to trap, 
descends a step. Primrose appears. Tony catches him by the collar 
and drags him up quickly) — Primrose! Kris Kringle has been here! 
— (Indicates the trunk. Primrose looks and gasps. He is speech- 
/^^^)— Explain, good Primrose, this multiplicity of delectable nutri- 
ment — this largess of eats — this sumptuous banquet — these holiday 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 43 

decorations. Don't tell me that they were brought by one of Go- 
liath's ravens. 

PRIMROSE — You've gone and blowed in the whole three dol- 
lars and seventeen cents. 

TONY — That — them — those ! For three-seventeen ! This isn't 
bargain day at the Reitz ! 

TONY — (Pointing to his purchases) — There lie my frugal for- 



agmgs 



PRIMROSE— I'm blowed. 

TONY — Clever dissembler ! Tell me at once ! You know 
whence came these gifts ! 

PRIMROSE— 'Pon my word, sir 

TONY — They came from the gentleman in the fur coat. He 
smuggled them in with your connivance — in my absence. He tipped 
you to hold your long tongue. Where's that tip ? 

PRIMROSE — (Turning his pockets out) — Honest to Gawd, sir 
— I ain't let anybody in since you went out ! 

TONY — Then where did they come from ? 

PRIMROSE — (Inspecting- the tea service, which appeals to him 
professionally) — 'Fore Gawd — I'm tellin' the truth, sir! I don't 
know ! This here is the most genteel china I've seen since I used 
to be butler for the Suydams, sir. It would be a real pleasure I'm 
sure, to serve you tea in these things ! — (Opens tea-caddy and sniffs) 
— There's tea as IS tea. 

TONY — But that doesn't explain where it all came from ! Do 
you think there is anyone in this house that — eh — entertains a secret 
passion for me? — (Goes up to table). 

PRIMROSE— Not a chance, sir! 

TONY — (Surprised, seeing box of cigarettes) — Cigarettes! By 
the hundred/ — (Looks about room, at basket, and then at trap-door 
in the roof). 

PRIMROSE — It'd make you believe in Kris Kringle — now 
wouldn't it? 

TONY — (Going down L. and getting ladder) — Or fairies! That 
it! Fairies have done it! — (Takes ladder C.) 

PRIMROSE — I let in no fairies this afternoon, sir. 

TONY— Certainly not! 

PRIMROSE — And what are you doin' with the ladder? 

TONY — Fairies always come in by the roof! — (Sets ladder up 
to trap-door, waves Primrose to hold it) — They heard that we were 
broke — they didn't know about that check for three-seventeen !^ — 
(Ascends, ladder) . 



44 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



PRIMROSE — (Holding ladder, with a grin) — Do you expect to 
find them up there? 

TONY — There's no telling! — {Unfastens trap) — I'm going to 
make a thorough search up here and down there ! 

(The calico curtain in L.U. is agitated). 

(Tony raises the trap and looks out on roof) — As I thought — 
there are tracks up here — fairytracks ! 

PRIMROSE— Pigeontracks ! 

TONY — (Re-appearing, closing trap) — The indications are that 
the commissary department made its advance upon us through the 
trap ! 

PRIMROSE — Excuse me, sir, but they couldn't — the trap was 
bolted on the inside ! 

TONY — (Descending the ladder) — That settles it — (Steps down 
on floor and takes ladder down L. to its place) — Only fairies could 
have got that hamper through a bolted trap-door ! 

PRIMROSE— I don't take no stock in fairies ! 

TONY — (Going to the trunk) — Do you believe in drum-sticks? 
— (Twists leg of chicken off and presents it to Primrose). 

PRIMROSE— Thank you— very kindly— sir ! 

TONY — Have a sandwich, or a piece of cake — or both! — (C-uts 
cake). 

PRIMROSE — (Gnawing drum-stick, and picking up sandwich) 
— Prime chicken ! 

TONY — (Going to "Gloucester" hammock with piece of cake) — 
This will keep us for a month! — -(He begins to sniff — comically 
puzzled; sniffs the comfortable. Explodes) — There has been a fairy 
here and she's been sleeping in my bed! — (He jumps up and looks 
at the bed. Primrose stares at Tony as though the youth wai mad) 
— And she's left her quilt behind her! — (Tony holds up the com- 
forter. They look at each other in amazement. Primrose then looks 
all about the room. His eye falls on a tiny violet rosette which lies 
on the floor upstairs between the window and the curtain. He goes 
and picks it up). 

PRIMROSE — And here's somethin' else she left behind her! — 
(Tony throws quilt on hammock and goes to Primrose — takes rosette 
and examines it). 

TONY — The plot thickens ! This, my good Primrose, is what 
I'd call a clue ! 

PRIMROSE — That ain't a clue — it's a what-you-may-call-it of 
lingery ! — (The calico curtain is agitated). 

TONY— You think so? 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 45 



PRIMROSE — Sure ! I've seen 'em in shop windows on tlie 
avenue. 

TONY — Cinderella — when she visited the prince, left behind — a 
glass slipper. My fairy god-mother, when she visited me to-day, left 
behind a violet rosette! — (The calico curtain is agitated) — That's 
rather nice ! Quite an idea ! I think I can USE it ! 

PRIMROSE — Gentlemen don't wear things like that ! 

TONY — Possibly not, but authors — well, they use just such 
trifles to decorate their plots ! I needed something like this for that 
song in Act II. Here! Clear out now! I'm going to work ! — {Lays 
rosette on table). 

PRIMROSE — But we aint' found out who sent — 

TONY — {Leading him down L.) — I'll leave that to you. I've 
got hold of an idea — must write it out! You go ahead — learn the 

name of my fairy god-mother — and come and tell me ! Oh, here's 

a magnificent Christmas present for you! — {Picks up box from floor 
heloiv trunk. Opens it, and displays suspenders, dangles them) — 
There/ Useful and decorative at the same time! 

PRIMROSE — {With a gulp, almost in tears) — Oh, sir, you 
shouldn't have blowed yourself on me like that! {Gives a sob). 

TONY — But see — {Waves hand over trunk) — The fairies pro- 
vide! Here — {Picks up sausage) — You're wild about sausage!— 
{Gives him sausage) — But don't eat the sash! 

{THE GREAT SHE-BEAR suddenly appears through the 
trap L.) 

SHE-BEAR — {To Primrose, wrathfully, in a big voice) — So 
you're up here again, spending the day, are you ! ! ! ! 

TONY — Not spending the day — just bringing up a letter to me! 

SHE-BEAR — (Snapping at Tony) — I heard you call him half 
an hour ago! Do you think I'm paying him wages just to piddle 
about up here all afternoon — bringin' you a letter ! 

TONY — Well, you don't need to make such an infernal row 
about it! — (Primrose is cowering against the L. wall down stage. 
The She-Bear is now up on the stage by the trap. Tony is facing 
her L.C. down stage.) 

SHE-BEAR — {Thundering) — I'll make all the row I please— 
and without askin' leave of you! — {To Primrose) — Here you — 

TONY — Then you'll make it somewhere else. 

SHE-BEAR — Don't give me any of your impudence, young 
man! 

TONY — {Suavely) — I might give you all the impudence I could 
scrape together, and the balance would still be in your favor! 



46 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



SHE-BEAR — If you can't talk plain — keep' your tongue to your- 
self! 

TONY — In plain words — I object exceedingly to the rude habit 
you have of bursting into my apartment without knocking ! 

SHE-BEAR— It's my house— I'll do as I like in it! 

TONY — This is my room ! iVnd you have no right to enter it 
without my permission — so long as I pay my rent. 

SHE-BEAR — You haven't paid your rent — but you can go and 
squander the money you ought to be givin' me— in swell food — 
{Making a violent gesture toisuard the trunk)— ■And hxin's ! So don't 
you talk back to me, young man, or the first thing you know — 

TONY — {Taking two one-dollar bills from his pocket) — I'll pay 
the rent! — {Hands hills to her). 

SHE-BEAR — {Grozvling) — That's all very well, but I want you 
to understand, Mr. Quintard, that I won't have you keepin' Jerry 
potterin' around up here — chinnin' to him and fillin' his old gullet — 
that I won't! — {To Primrose) — You get down stairs double-quick 
and when you've done the cuspidors, you can scrub the vestibule! 
Do you hear? 

PRIMROSE — Yes, mum! — {With a wink at Tony,, he scuttles 
down through the trap). 

SHE-BEAR — {To Tony) — He's my servant — not yours! — 
{Starts down through trap). 

TONY — Thank you for putting it so delicately! And just to 
show you that there's no ill feeling, permit me to offer you a piece 
of my chicken! — {Taking knife and fork) — The choicest part is none 
too good for you. — {Cuts off the tail-end). 

TONY— What do you say to the Pope's Nose?— (0#rr.y it to 
her over the rail on the end of the fork). 

SHE-BEAR — {Furiously) — Eat it yourself! — {She e.vits down, 
trap. Tony laughs. Sound of door shut violently belozv). 

{Tony zvith a smile places the "Pope's Nose" on the dish; goes 
up to the table; takes cigarette, lights it, sits behind table and 
snwkcs luxuriously ; picks up violet rosette, studies it for a moment 
smilingly: seises pen and begins to write). 

{MARJORIE peeps from behind curtain at him. She is greatly 
worried, but sees no zvay of making her escape). 

{Tony stops writing, rises, paces up the stage; then goes to L.U. 
corner zvhere Marjorie is .hiding, takes turban from s'helf, puts it on, 
goes back to table, looks at rosette and starts to work again. ' Inspi- 
ration, fails him. He looks about the room vaguely. Presently his 
eyes discover Marjoric's grey-shod slippers shozuing beneath the cur- 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 47 



tain. He is comically ama:;ed. He studies them for a moment before 
speaking). 

TONY-^No wonder I couldn't work! Even the presence of a 
fairy is distracting! You can always tell a fairy by her feet! — (^Rises 
and stands there behind table) — I know not whence you came, nor bj- 
what magic means you gained an entrance here ; but as Genie of 
this Castle, I bid you come forth! — {Waits a moment) — I promise 
not to eat you! — (Marjorie very much confused, parts the curtains 
and stands there, looking at him, half smiling. Tony gives an ex- 
clamation of surprised delight. He is charmed, wonderstruck ; 
slowly takes off his turban) — Oh, my artistic soul!!! Fairies and 
ministers of grace, introduce me!!! — (Marjorie makes a move as 
though to speak) — No — no! If you. have a voice — don't speak — not 
yet ! Let me explain you ! You came from the Isle of Bliss — on a 
sunbeam, one of those bright, playful early-morning sunbeams that 
we hear so much of, but never rise in time to meet ! They have the 
run of my attic — for one of the smallest hours — while I still sleep ! 
That's it ! One of them — perfumed with the south land — carried you 
in this morning while I slept! You had just finished your market- 
ing, and, as any lazy fairy naturally would, you called your sunbeam 
— like mortals call their cabs — to take you home again. But your 
sunbeams had been waiting for you in the vineyard — just across the 
way from the delicatessen shop. He had probably lingered too long 
over the grapes ; and feeling in a sportive mood, he picked you up 
and inadvertently shot you through my window pane! — (Marjorie 
laughs) — Ah! She laughs! 

AIARJORIE — I'd laugh more — only my teeth are chattering! 
Won't you invite me to tea? The kettle's boiling. 

TONY — A thousand pardons! — (Picks up his chair and plants 
it at the register facing L.) — Permit me. You provide the feast — I 
the hospitality! — (Waves her to the chair with a flourish of his tur- 
ban. She goes to the chair obediently) — Accept a mortal's thanks! — 
(Pushes the trunk in front of her to serve as a table) — for this de- 
lightful Christmas fare! Pray join me! — (Looks at her with ad- 
miration. She smilingly starts to prepare the tea) — A fairy at tea. 
Thank you, as well — (Waving his hand about) — for trimming my 
humble habitation after the fashion of the season — for the scarf — 
you see I wear your colors — (Goes to hammock) — and for the quilt — 
in which I take the liberty of wrapping you. — (Carefully wraps the 
quilt about her) — I shall be glad to have you chatter — but not with 
the cold. ■ 

MARJORIE — You make me feel very much at home. How do 
you like your tea? 



48 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY — {Going up to curtain L.U. corner) — I think I like it 
strong. — (Gets soap box from behind curtain). 

MARJORIE — But you mustn't have it strong — it isn't good for 
you ! 

TONY — (Bringing the box down to the L. side of the trunk) — 
1 see at once that I am going to be bossed within an inch of my 
life 

MARJORIE — Men never know what is good for them. 

TONY — I'm sure this visitation of yours is very good for me. 

MARJORIE — (Pouring tea) — Dear me, I forgot the cream. 

TONY — (Starting up) — Must you have cream in your tea? 

MARJORIE — No — no! Sit down! I never take cream in my 
tea. 

TONY — Neither do I in anything — it's too fattening. — (Sits 
again ) . 

MARJORIE — (Passing him a cup of tea) — I like it nice and 
thick on big strawberries, or whipped on top of my chocolate. 

TONY — (Taking tea cup) — If you'll promise to come again. 
I'll promise to have strawberries and chocolate and cream. Mean- 
while, may I offer you a piece of cake? I can recommend it. 

MARJORIE — (Sipping tea with satisfaction) — Thank you. 

TONY — (Cuting cake) — And by the way — would you have far 
to come? 

MARJORIE — But you explained my coming so beautiful — 

TONY — (Giving her cake) — Still, don't you think I was a trifle 
sketchy as to details? » 

MARJORIE — You insist upon having the details? 

TONY— I entreat. 

MARJORIE — Suppose I tell you a story. 

TONY — (Helping himself to a sandwich) — I can think of noth- 
ing I would like better. 

MARJORIE — Well then : Once upon a time a rich little girl 
came from a far country to live alone in a big house with her father. 

TONY- — (Starting, frowning — almost angrily) — You're not the 
rich girl next door ? 

MARJORIE — You mustn't interrupt like that ! The rich girl 
was very lonely — so she engaged — a companion — (Significantly). 

TONY — Oh, you're her companion ! 

MARJORIE — (Raising a finger, warning him to be still) — The 
companion was a sort of poor relation — also very much alone — and 
weary of the world. She heard of a young man who lived at the 
top of the house next door 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 49 



TONY — Sir Romney-of-the-Long-Tongue told the Veiled 
Princess about the poor young man. 

MARJORIE— The Veiled Princess? 

TONY — Yes. That's what I call the billionairess who lives in 
the adjoining palace. I suppose Romney told her and she told you. 

MARJORIE — It may have happened that way — ^but the heroine 
of my story 

TONY — The Princess's companion. 

MARJORIE — Of course ! Well, she never would have known a 
thing about her neighbor, if it had not been for this : 
"He spins no song, he rears no dome, 
Out of his heart he builds a home! 
Healer he of a woman's scars — 
God's hand shall throne his name in stars." 

TONY — {Delighted) — Oooooh ! And you repeat it as though 
you liked it ! Romney told me that the Princess — 

MARJORIE— Will you please not interrupt ! 

TONY — Forgive me. I was just curious to know. Romney said 
the Princess liked the song — I — I wondered if you aid. 

MARJORIE — It was the song that gave the Princess's com- 
panion the courage to — to — venture across the roof from her window 
to — -to yours. 

TONY — Across the roof? — {Suddenly rises) — By Jove! — {Go- 
ing to the window) — I never thought of that. — {Looking out of win- 
dow) — You have plenty of nerve. 

MARJORIE — It's perfectly safe — only a very cold crossing. 

TONY — {Coming down to trunk and looking at her with ad- 
miration) — You're wonderful. 

MARJORIE — Oh, I'm quite strong. — {Raises her arm to make 
her biceps stand out) — See. 

TONY — {Tentatively feels her arm) — Marvellous muscle! But 
I'm interrupting your thrilling narrative. — {Sits, holds out cup). 

MA.RJORIE — {Re-filling his cup) — Your song was your letter 
of credit. 

TONY — It was. — {Proudly) — I got three dollars for it — they 
give 3"ou twenty-five cents a line. I remember I wished I had written 
two or three more lines while I was about it. 

MARJORIE — {Indignantly) — It was worth twenty-five dollars a 
line. 

TONY — {Rising, bowing) — Thank you. I wish you were an 
editor. But I have interrupted you. 

MARJORIE — I knew that anybody who could talk to your heart 
like that must be awfully nice — 



50 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY — I am — ^believe me. 

MARJORIE — So — well- — thought it would be only neighborly, 
you know, if I should — eh — call on you — don't you think so? 

TONY — -Nothing couM possibly be more neighborly — an old and 
delightful custorn, which I am glad that in the kindness of your heart 
you have revived. But you have gone the custom one better, thank 
you.— (Waves his hand over the table). 

MARJORIE— Oh— these? I— Icouldn't help it— it was only in 
the way of — of looking after you — my — ^my mothering instinct. 

TONY — Which you get from your mother. 

MARJORIE— (With a little catch of her breath ) —Y—es ! My 
mother was — was such a^ — sweet mother. She was always looking 
after people who hadn't mothers — or were ill — or sad — or lonely. 

TONY— I understand. 

MARJORIE— I knew you would. 

TONY — I've been calling you my Fairy God-mother. I always 
knew I must have one somewhere. Welcome. — (Holds out his hand 
to her across the trunk) — I am delighted to meet you. But to be 
absolutely authentic you know, you should have a cap. 

MARJORIE — (Pulling hood of cloak over her head) — I have a 
hood. 

TONY — (Looking at her critically) — Under the circumstances, 
I think the hood will do very well — very well indeed. It is probably 
more becoming than a cap. 

MARJORIE — ^The hood should, of course, make me invisible. 

TONY — I'm glad it is not that kind of a hood. 

MARJORIE — You understand I didn't intend to be seen — I 
thought it would be so jolly — such a lark — to have a hand in your 
Christmas — and disappear without being discovered. 

TONY — But it's ever so much better that I discovered you. And 
technically speaking, it should not have been otherwise. Fairy god- 
mothers always appear to their beneficiaries, and give good advice 
with their gifts. 

MARJORIE — Of course I don't know you well enough to give 
you any real gifts, as fairy god-mothers do. 

TONY — Not real? These are most substantial. And let me 
tell you I think it was very jolly, very sweet of you to take so much 
trouble — 

MARJORIE — It has made me happy — ^you — you — no one could 
have accepted these foolish little things more graciously — 

TONY — I accepted them in the spirit in which they were given. 

MARJORIE — You are the Cinderella-man. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 51 



TONY — (Surprised, then with a smile appreciating the whimsey\ 
— The Cinderella-Man ! 

MARJORIE — That's what I've been calling you to myself. I 
hope you don't mind? 

TONY — I shouldn't mind if you called me "Towser."- — {Pause. 
They look at each other half-smilingly) — What will you take for 
your thoughts ? 

MARJORIE— Yours. 

TONY— Ladies first. 

MARJORIE — I was thinking that we were going to be good 
friends. 

TONY — Thank you. There's no doubt about it. 

MARJORIE— Now— pay up. 

TONY — I was thinking — I'm glad you are not the Veiled 
Princess. 

MARJORIE — ^\^0|U dislike princesses so much? 

TONY — I do — outside of books. Rich girls, in the flesh are 
conceited, empty-headed bores. And their families are worse. If a 
man pays a princess the slightest attention her family immediately 
suspects that he is after her money. 

MARJORIE — Ah ! You've had an unfortunate experience. 

TONY — I? Never! I never paid any attention to princesses. 
And I never — never will ! 

MARJORIE— I'm the last one in the world to take the part of 
princesses, but I do think you are rather hard on them. 

TONY — But consider. Does a poor man — a poor working man 
in particular — want to ruin his life by marrying a millionairess? 

MARJORIE— How could she ruin his life? 

TONY — In a dozen ways. First of all, he couldn't expect her to 
live as he had been used to living. That would mean that he must 
accept assistance — pecuniary assistance — from either the princess her- 
self or her family ; and that would be the death of his self-respect. 
Second, it would kill his ambition — there would no longer be the 
actual, biting necessity to work — and necessity is a great spur to am- 
bition. Third, without ambition, without work, he would become a 
most unhappy wretch. Fourth, All the joy of not knowing v/hat is 
coming next — the fillip of speculation, would be removed from his 
life. Fifth, and for the time being the last, he would never have 
what I imagine to be the most profound of satisfactions — the privi- 
lege of taking care of a woman all by him.self — working for her — 
struggling for her — suffering for her — {There is a pause. He looks 
at her smiling a little; she looks at him soberly, -with approval) . 

MARJORIE— I— I agree with you. 



52 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY — I was sure you would. 

MARJORIE — But — ^but suppose — ^just suppose, you know — 
that you should happen to — to run across a princess who cared noth- 
ing about money — only the things you speak of — and — and you 
should like her very much — 

TONY — My dear fairy god-mother — such a princess doesn't 
exist outside of a book. 

MARJORIE — I said — "just suppose." You'd pay some at- 
tention to her— you wouldn't turn up your nose at her — would 
you? 

TONY— No. I'd be fearfully polite to her. 

MARJORIE — You might even grow to — to — like her? 

TONY — I might grow to be quite fond of her. 

MARJORIE — Well then — the Veiled Princess next door is 
like that. 

TONY — Impossible! I can't believe it — it's just your loyalty 
to her! — {The light outside begins to fade). 

MARJORIE — Oh no ! I can prove it to you ! Let me bring 
her to call some day. 

TONY — (Rising suddenly) — Please — please don't! I really 
should be terribly put out. I'll take your word for it — I'll believe 
whatever you wish me to believe — 

MARJORIE — I think you might be a trifle more hospitable ! — 
(Rises^ drops her violet scarf). 

TONY — (Picks up scarf, holds it looking at it with pleasure) 
— It isn't that I'm inhospitable — I'm cowardly — I'm more afraid 
of a Princess than I should be of a polar bear. 

MARJORIE — (Going up stage) — Anyway, you're not afraid 
of me. — (Holds out her hand to him). 

TONY — (Takes her hand) — You're not going so soon! 

MARJORIE — I must— I have my— my duties— 

TONY — (Giving scarf to her. She winds it about her throat) 
— Then it wouldn't be kind of me to keep you. — (Picks up 
violet rosette from table, offers it to her) — I think this belongs 
to you. — (Marjorie looks at it and suddenly covers her face 
with her hands laughing) — I'd like to keep it. It's been a source 
of inspiration to me. — (Picks up sheet of manuscript from the 
table and reads) 

"Love, whose feet are shod with light, 

Lost this ribbon in her flight, 
Rosette of the twilight sky, 
Wafts to me Love's lullaby." 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 53 



(As he reads, she stops laughing, lowers her hands and stands 
there listening. When he finishes he looks up at her smiling). 

MARJORIE — Keep it — in payment for your verse. 

TO^Y— (Pleased)— Ah\ You like it? 

MARJORIE — Oh, ever so much ! Anyone who can write 
songs like that, should write an opera. — {He smiles) — Why don't 
you write an opera? There's a lot of money in operas. Did 
you know that they're offering a prize of ten thousand dollars 
for an opera — now? 

TONY — {Picking up his manuscript and shaking it at her, 
laughing) — This is the book that's going to get the prize. 

MARJORIE — {Amased — in wonder) — Oh, oh — really! Let me 
see it — may I? 

TONY— (0#mw5r manuscript to her) — Surely! — {She takes 
it eagerly and looks at it. Tony smiles) — You don't have to read 
it. 

MARJORIE— How nearly is it finished? 

TONY— Oh, I'll have it done in iime. 

MARJORIE— You must! You must! 

TONY — Can you read my handwriting? 

MARJORIE — It's rather scriggly — ^but I can make it out. 
You know you. should have this typewritten. 

TONY — I suppose it should be, but — 

MARJORIE— I— have a typewriter. 

TONY — I don't think I could manage one. 

MARJORIE — But I can ! Let me type your manuscript for 
you. 

TONY — That would be an imposition. 

MARJORIE— I'd love to do it— and I'd take awfully good 
care of the manuscript. 

TONY — It would be splendid of you to do it. 

MARJORIE— Then you will? 

TONY — It would be a great favor. 

MARJORIE— May I take this with me? 

TONY — (Taking manuscript from her) — Yes. All but the last 
few pages — that will be up to the end of Act two. 

MARJORIE— And I'll finish the rest as you give it to 
me. 

TONY — Splendid! — (Hands manuscript to her). 

MARJORIE— (Taking ikT-S^". ) — Now I must go. 

TONY— (Going' to window) — Just a moment — (Takes broom 
from R. side of window) — I want to sweep the snow off — (Raises 



54 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



window) — make a path for you across the roof — {Climbs out 
window. Is seen brushing outside, then disappears off R.) 

MARJORIE — You're so nice and thoughtful. — (She turns from 
window, puts Mss, on table; ;takes quilt and spreads it carefully 
and aff'ectionately on the hammock ; gives the pillow a pat; picks 
up box L. of trunk and sets it under window as a step. Tony 
reappears at window. He climbs in and shakes snow from, 
broom). 

TONY — There — no danger of your slipping now! — {Sees 
basket) — Why didn't I think of putting you in the basket and 
sleighing you across. 

MARJORIE— Thank you— but I'd rather walk.— (5'/t^ picks tip 
the Mss. and holds out her hand). 

TONY — {Smiling) — Now that you found the way, you'll come 
again ? 

MARJORIE — I must. You're engaged me as your secretary. — 
(Going to window). 

TONY — That was very clever of me. When shall I see 
you? 

MARJORIE — That will depend entirely upon the Princess. 
I'll come my first afternoon out. She may let me oflf for an 
hour to-mprrow — you see it's a holiday. 

TONY — (Putting his hand in his vest pocket) — I wonder if 
you would be good enough to accept — this little Christmas pres- 
ent. — (Puts the little gold locket in her hand), 

MARJORIE— It's very beautiful and old. 

TONY — It's a hundred years old — I guess — it has a picture 
of my real mother in it. 

MARJORIE — Your mother. Oh, I couldn't take such a pre- 
cious thing. 

TONY — That's why I'm giving it to you — because it is pre- 
cious. 

MARJORIE — I'll keep it — for you — so long as we're friends. 
— (Lights lower, dusk outside). 

TONY — Thank you. — (He hands her ant through the window) 
— Good-night, little fairy god-mother. 

MARJORIE — (Outside the window) — Good-night, Cinderella- 
man. Merry Christmas. — (She disappears R. Tony stands at the 
window looking after her as the Curtain Falls on Act II). 

CURTAIN. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 55 



ACT III 

(A Week Later). 
SCENE: 

(Tony's attic. It is neater and more comfortable than in Act 
II. The window has been washed. A chintz curtain in a good 
design, hung on a wire, conceals the washstand and the Gloucester 
hammock on the R., another chintz curtain, of the same pattern, 
has replaced the calico curtain under the shelf in the L. upper 
corner; a chintz cottage curtain, also of the same pattern, frames 
the dormer window. The trunk stands in its former place against 
the traprail, but it is now enveloped in a couch cover, and there 
are two sofa cushions on it. A small folding card table, folded 
up, leans against the rail below the trunk. An oil stove, bright 
with newness, with arms, R.C. A tulle scarf, neatly folded, lies 
on the writing table, which is the only untidy spot in the room). 

(Rise of curtain discovers'' ROMNEY EVANS , in fur coat 
change of clothes from first act, ascending through the trap L., 
followed by PRIMROSE). 

PRIMROSE — Yes sir — he said to me as he was comin' down 
stairs: "I'm goin' out for a breath o' air."- — (Romney comes up 
on stage and looks at the improvements with wonder. Primrose 
stands at the rail) — And that means — knowin' Mr. Quintard's 
habits as I does me own — that he's not likely to be back before 
three o'clock. 

ROMNEY — (Looking at his watch) — In that case, I haven't 
long to wait. 

PRIMROSE — (Eager to be rid of Romney) — O' course, sir, 
there's no tellin' — he might go for a longer walk than usual — 
he's been workin' so hard — and when he does come back he'll 
be wantin' to get to work again. 

ROMNEY— (H^zY/i a laugh)— You can't get rid of me! I'm 
going to wait. — (Sits in camp chair R.C.) 

PRIMROSE — I wasn't thinkin' o' such a thing, sir. 

ROMNEY — Then we might as well dismiss it as a topic of 
conversation. — (Waving his stick about the room) — Quite a 
metamorphosis. 



56 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



PRIMROSE — {Over his head, feeling his way) — You may be 
right, sir; but that — that's a matter of opinion, as Mr. Quintard 
would be sayin'. 

ROMNEY — There can be but one opinion — Mr. Quintard has 
struck it rich. 

PRIMROSE — {Relieved that at last he can understand)- — 
Yes, sir; oh, yes, indeed sir — he has had a bit o' luck. 

SHE-BEAR — {Speaking from below L. — furiously) — Prim- 
rose! Come down out of there! Hear me! — {Primrose and 
Romney start. The Great She-Bear suddenly appears through the 
trap. She is surprised to see Romney. Speaking with a low 
growl) — Huh! I didn't know the gentleman was here! — {Romney 
rises with a polite bow). 

PRIMROSE — {Timidly) — I was showin' him up. He's waitin' 
to see Mr. Quintard. 

SHE-BEAR — {Angrily) — You're not waiting to see Mr. Quin- 
tard. 

ROMNEY — No, madam — he was entertaining me. 

SHE-BEAR — If there's any entertaining to be done — I'll do 
it. — (7^0 Primrose, angrily) — Leave me catch you up here again, 
you lump, and I'll take the broom to you. — {To Romney) — You 
don't know what a trial he is — the old reprobate — pottering and 
dawdling, taking it easy — when he's got his work to do. — {To 
Primrose, fiercely) — Don't stand there with your big mouth open. 
Nothin's going to fall into it. Clear out-^and be quick about 
it — you've got the halls to sweep — the bannisters to wipe down — 
and mind, when you've got that done — you'll sift the ashes.- — 
{Primrose hurries down through the trap. To Romney) — I ain't 
seen you since the day you paid Mr. Quintard's rent. 

ROMNEY— That's my misfortune. 

SHE-BEAR — You've been here since, ain't you? 

ROMNEY — I've called once or twice. 

SHE-BEAR — The way he's got this place all fussed up, beats 
me. I guess you give him the money. 

ROMNEY — I don't give Mr. Quintard money. — {Sits in camp 
chair). 

SHE-BEAR — {Sarcastically) — Then I'd like to know how a 
man as poor as him can buy better curtains than I've got in my 
best rooms. — {She waits for a moment for Romney to reply. 
He looks at his watch. She goes on, annoyed) — And what's more, 
I'd like to know how these things got up here. — {Romney studies 
his watch) — I generally know what comes into this house. — 
{Stalks about the stage, looking at the various im,provements) . — 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 57 



There's somethin' queer about it. — {Looks at Romney, waiting for 
his comment) — I say, there's somethin' queer about it. Don't you 
think so? 

ROMNEY— "Queer?" 

SHE-BEAR — {Emphatically) — Yes. It ain't like a man. If a 
woman had this attic, she might be putting up curtains and so 
on — but a man — a. man would be queer to — {She breaks off as 
her eye falls on the tulle scarf on the end of the table. She looks 
at Romney. He is not looking at her. She picks up the scarf, 
looks at it, sniffs it, becomes very suspicious, glances at Romney 
and deftly hides the scarf under her apron) — I wonder if you're 
a relation of his — a rich relation maybe? 

ROMNEY— No. 

SHE-BEAR — Could you be a detective — I wonder? 

ROMNEY— No. 

SHE-BEAR— You don't talk much— do you? 

ROMNEY— No. 

SHE-BEAR — {Going to trap) — I guess you'll be waiting for 
him. 

ROMNEY— Yes. 

SHE-BEAR — {Descending through trap) — Well, you can say 
to him for me — that if he can live up here like a dude he can 
pay rent in advance — and that it'll be due on Monday. — {She 
disappears through the trap). 

{Romney breathes a sigh of relief. Sound of a clock strik- 
ing "three" in the distance. Romney rises and strolls up to 
window. Looks out for a moment, then suddenly starts back, 
and steps behind the curtain, which conceals the washstand and 
ham,m.ock R.) 

{MARJORIE, dressed as in Act II, uuith hood over her head, 
appears at the window, with a typewritten manuscript in a large 
envelope under one arm and carrying a small basket on the 
other. She peeps in at the window; then raises the sash and 
climbs in. She shuts the window places the manuscript on the 
table, goes to the trap and listens, places basket on floor below 
trunk, then goes back to table, gets a match and lights oil stove). 

{ROMNEY peeps at her from the curtain R. steps out smiling. 
She starts, hearing his step, turns in alarm). 

MARJORIE — {Breathlessly, surprised) — Oh— Romney — {Re- 
lieved) — How — you — frightened me. 

ROMNEY — {Pretending to be angry) — So this is what you're 
up to? 



58 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE — Don't be cross with me ! I'm only doing what 
you wanted me to do — looking after Tony. 

ROMNEY — (With a laugh) — You're making a thorough job 
of it — aren't you? — (Waves hand about the room). 

MARJOJRIE — Oh, no — there's so much more I could do— 
but I don't dare? He only let me put up the curtains because I 
said I couldn't stand the place without them. 

ROMNEY — He doesn't think you buy them — does he? 

MARJORIE— No— no ! Isn't it too dreadful— I have to lie 
about everything— or, Romney ! I tell him they're all my per- 
sonal possessions — stored in the loft next door — that it's so much 
better to use tbem-^they'd only be gathering dust. 

ROMNEY— And he believes you? 

MARJORIE — -Every word I say. I'd be terribly ashamed — 
only it's all for his comfort — like this stove. He thinks I bor- 
rowed it from myself. So I did, but I bought it. Isn't it 
cute? 

ROMNEY — (Laconically) — I've never seen anything so cute 
in all my life. It gives out real heat. — (Slips out of his overcoat 
and drops it on camp chair) — It looks as though one might even 
cook on it. 

MARJORIE — One does ! Oh, Romney, it's really too wonder- 
ful! Every day, I come across the roof — at about half after 
three, and bring what I call my "tea" with me. Of course, it's 
really for Tony — oh, lots of things — good and nourishing, you 
know. I must fatten him up. So after tea — just before I go — 
I make him hot little messes for his dinner. I just love to cook — 
and sometimes it smells so good, I wish I could slay and have 
dinner with him. 

ROMNEY — How does he take these ministrations of yours? 
"MARJORIE — Oh, in the sweetest; j oiliest way — so — so matter- 
of-fact. You know, I'm just his fairy god-mother, who pops 
in and out. To-day I've brought him a typewritten copy of his 
opera. It's done — finished — all but the editing — touching it up, 
you know. And oh, Romney — it is too beautiful — I love every 
word of it. 

ROMNEY — I'm afraid you are prejudiced. 

MARJORIE — Oh, no I'm not ! Grayson, father's secretary. 
who did the typewriting for me on the sly, says it's better thin 
"The Merry Widow." You know, it has some awfully cunning 
jokes in it — all mixed up in the dearest way with the romance. 
The Cinderella-man has a way of making what I'd call tender 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 59 



jokes — -they make you laugh and cry at the same time, and it's 
all so like him — so — so — oh, I don't know how to describe it 

ROMNEY — (Dryly, looking down steadily at her) — ^I think I 
understand. 

MARJORIE — (Looks up at him suddenly, alarmed, then em- 
barressed) — Why — why — Romney — you — you — couldn't — (She turns 
away from him and sinks down on trunk). 

ROMNEY — -(Seriously) — I hope this isn't going to be more 
than I bargained 'for — (Going to trunk and looking down at her) 
—Eh, little girl? 

MARJORIE — (Catching hold of his hand, and drawing him 
close to her) — Oh, Romney — I've never been so happy — (Holding 
his hand to her cheek) — and — so — so miserable. — (She gives a 
little sob). 

ROMNEY — (Comforting her) — It's quite possible that your 
Cinderella-man is just as much in love with you as you are 
with him — (She shakes her head, and wipes her eyes)—^VL\. under 
the circumstances — as any gentleman wguld — he refrains from 
declaring himself. 

MARJORIE — Oh no — it isn't that — he doesn't care. I can 
tell. He's sweet and nice as he can be— as a brother might 
be. But he so—so impersonal. He never really sees me. Some- 
times he doesn't realize that I'm here. I'm like a pet puppy-dog 
to him. I'm sure he never thinks of me when I'm away. Of 
course, his mind is all on his opera — I understand that, only I 
wish 

ROMNEY — -Tony's probably too sure of j'our service. Geniuses 
have a way of taking things for granted. You must make him 
anxious. 

MARJORIE— I couldn't do that. 

ROMNEY — Just a wee bit. Now he expects you here promptly 
at half after three — 

MARJORIE — Yes. I was never late but once — I sent Celeste 
for some strawberries for him and she was fearfully slow — I 
heard him whistling for me. 

ROAINEY— Oh, he whistles for you? 

MARJORIE — I told him he should whistle, if he ever v/anted 
me outside of the regular time. 

ROMNEY — Huh! You are ahead of time to-day. 

MARJORIE— I couldn't wait. 

ROMNEY — You must wait to-day — keep him waiting. 

MARJORIE— (Protesting)— Oh, Romney. 



60 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



ROMNEY — You must — go now! {Picks up her basket) — Take 
your basket and your manuscript with you. 

MARJORIE — {Rising reluctantly from trunk) — You really — 
think — ? 

ROMNEY — I do! — {Conducts her up stage and gives her 
manuscript in envelope) — -You must not return until at least ten 
minutes after I give the signal 

MARJORIE — You won't forget — you'll give me a signal.-' 

ROMNEY — Now, let's see — it's usually a light placed in a 
window, isn't it. But that's not practical — no — decidedly not. T 
might throw something out of the window. 

MARJORIE — I won't have you messing up my nice, clean 
roof — nothing but rain or snow is allowed there. 

ROMNEY — How would it do if I managed to hang one 
of my best handkerchiefs out of the window. — {Takes bright- 
colored handkerchief from his pocket). 

MARJORIE — That would do. — {Sound of door, far below, 
banged. She opens window) — I'm sure that's Tony — he always 
bangs the front door. 

ROMNEY — ^Out witli you. — {Marjorie clinubs through the 
window with manuscript and basket). 

MARJORIE — {Outside the window) — -Remember — he — doesn't 
know who I really am — and I'm so afraid that if he should find 
out — {Door is banged just below. Marjorie disappears, going R. 
Rom,ney closes window and stands looking out. Tony comes bound- 
ing up through the trap breathlessly, expecting to find Marjorie 
there. Surprised at seeing Romney, who turns from window). 

ROMNEY — {Coming down stage to shake Tony's hand) — How 
are you, old man? 

TONY — {Unable to control his disappointment as he takes 
Romney's hand) — Hello! 

ROMNEY — {With a smile) — You don't seem overjoyed to see 
me. 

TONY — {With forced enthusiasm) — Oh yes I am — yes, I am. 
— {Taking off his overcoat) — Sit down — sit down. — {Steals a look 
out window). 

ROMNEY — No — I'm not going to stay — I only dropped in 
to ask you if you hadn't changed your mind about the Princess ! 

TONY — {Coming down from window and throwing hat and 
coat on trunk) — In what way? In what way? — {Turns to oil 
stove and stands there warming his hands) . 

ROMNEY— About meeting her. 

TONY — {With a bow to Romney, who is standing on the R. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 61 



side of oil stove opposite Tony) — I don't want to be rude — but — 
NO thank you. — (Goes up to window and looks out). 

ROMNEY — I shan't insist. — {Pause, looks at Tony with a 
smile). — You've been making yourself quite comfortable here. 

TONY — Yes! Yes! — {Canting down from window, restlessly) 
— Friend — lent me these things. Awfully good of her — wasn't it? 

ROMNEY — {Feigning surprise) — HER ? 

TONY — -{Turning to him, frankly) — Yes. And I don't mind 
telling you, I'm expecting her every minute. 

ROMNEY— Oh, ho! Tony— Tony! 

TONY — There's no nonsense between us. The girl is simply 
doing my typewriting — that's all. 

ROMNEY — Some scrubby female from a down-town office ! 

TONY — Scrubby? She's one of the daintiest little things you 
ever laid your eyes on. 

ROMNEY— Ah ! And yet you tell me there's no nonsense? 

TONY — {Warmly) — There isn't. We're friends — friends. 
Very good, wholesome friends. — {Restlessly goes up to window). 

ROMNEY — {Jeeringly) — Does she arrive by way of the win- 
dow? 

TONY — {Turning on hi-m, suddenly, suspiciously) — What do 
you know about it? 

ROMNEY — The way you trot up and down to the window 
makes me suspicious. 

TONY — See here, Romney — can you keep a secret? 

ROMNEY— That's the better part of my trade. 

TONY — Well, then she DOES come by the window. 

ROMNEY— Oh, go on— 

TONY— It's a fact. 

ROMNEY — {Going to the window) — This window? 

TONY — Yes. You'll never guess who it is. 

ROMNEY — Never:— so you'd better tell me. 

TONY — It's my fairy god-mother. 

ROMNEY — A minute ago it was your private secretary. 

TONY — That's the beautj' of a fairy god-mother— she can 
turn herself into almost anything — from a typewriter to a cook. 

ROMNEY — She must be very handy to have about the house. 

TONY — She is — relieves me of so many responsibilities. 

ROMNEY— What's her name? 

TONY— Blest if I know. 

ROMNEY — You must call her something. 

TONY— I do. I call her— god-mother. 



62 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



ROMNEY — {Feigning impatience) — Are you going to tell me 
who she is — or not? 

TONY — That's the secret! She's the companion of your Prin- 
cess next door. 

ROMNEY — Oooooh ! — {Looks out window) — She — she sneaks 
across the roof to your window? 

TONY — {Impatiently, pulling him away from window) — Yes! 
Yes ! Come away — she might see you. 

ROMNEY — I suppose this began by your flirting with her 
out your window. 

TO^Y— {Warmly)— It did not. 

ROMNEY — But as I recall her — she is not unattractive. 

TONY — {Pussled as to what he is driving at) — She's — she's 
quite pretty. 

ROMNEY— Ah, then I don't blame you. 

TONY — {Impatiently) — There's nothing to blame anybody 
about. I'm not going to tell you how it began ; but I want you 
to understand once and for all that there's nothing sentim.ental 
in our relations. 

ROMNEY — A business proposition — is it? — {Drops down on 
trunk). 

TONY — {Impatiently, pacing stage up and down R.) — No — no! 
It's^ — it's a — a comfortable sort of — oh, thunder. She's the salt 
of the earth and — and all that. Looks after me in the most 
motherly fashion — comes every day with my freshly typewritten 
copy and tea-basket. All very chummy and so on. 

ROMNEY — That's the way you see the affair. 

TONY — {Turning on him sharply) — I won't have it called an 
"AfiFair." 

ROMNEY — Excuse me. You don't see it that way, but how 
does she see it? 

TONY— As I do— of course. 

ROMNEY— You can't be sure of that. 

TONY— Oh yes, I can. 

ROMNEY — -You never know what's going on in the back 
of a woman's head. 

TONY — And I have no curiousity to learn. 

ROMNEY — But. where are you i two drifting? 

TONY — {Laughing) — You old sentimentalist. Your mind is 
set on a romance that doesn't exist. Mine is set on an opera 
that must be finished and mailed to-night. — {Picks up Romney's 
coat) — Here's your rug. Crawl into it. I've got to signal my 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 63 



God-mother for that manuscript. • — {Romney rises and takes coat 
froin Tony, who goes up to the window). 

ROMNEY — You're a stony-hearted, young pup!— (Tony raises 
the window and whistles). 

TO'NY^ (Lowering window) — That'll fetch her. 

ROMNEY — I tell you, you're a stony-hearted young pup ! 

TONY — (Coming down and picking up Romney's hat) — Here's 
your hat, old top. 

ROMNEY — Do you regard that girl simply as a machine that 
grinds out your opera for you? Or as a char-woman, who scrubs 
your floor? 

TONY — (Indignantly) — She doesn't scrub my floor. 

ROMNEY — But you do regard her as a sort of machine. 

TONY — (Laughing) — You make me tired — I don't "regard" 
her' at all — (Soberly) — But I 'am profoundly grateful to her. — 
(Picks up Romney's stick) — Here's your stick. 

ROMNEY — She hasn't come yet. 

TONY — (Going up to window) — I don't understand what's 
keeping her. — (Throws open window and whistles). 

ROMNEY — If you don't begin to pay some attention to 
her — 

TONY — (Closing window) — What's that? 

ROMNEY — If she should come this afternoon 

TONY— Oh, she'll come. 

ROMNEY — She's pretty' late according to schedule now. — 
(Goes up to window). 

TONY — (Restlessly) — I can't imagine what's keeping her — 
she promised me the finished manuscript this afternoon. 

ROMNEY — (Taking out handkerchief behind Tony's back) 
— I say, if she should come — take a little notice of her — the girl, 
herself, I mean. Give her some thought — a poet should never 
lose an opportunity to study the species at first hand. 

TONY — What do you want me to do — open her mouth and 
count her teeth? 

ROMNEY — No — just open your eyes — and— count your pulse! 

TONY — (Holding out his hand) — Good-bye! Good-bye! Sorry 
you must be going. 

ROMNEY— I don't believe she's coming. 

TONY — (Turns to window suddenly, anxiously, throws it 
open and whistles again; then draws his head within but does not 
close window) — Now what do you suppose has happened? 

ROMNEY — (Coming up to window) — Hah! You'd miss her 
if anything happened to her. 



64 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY — Oh, shut up! — (Whistles out window'). 

ROMNEY — I shouldn't go on whistling like that — if she's 
ill she can't come — you'll only disturb her — or bring the police. 

TONY — {Anxiously) — A healthy girl like that doesn't get ill 
over-night. 

ROMNEY — You can't tell — she might have caught some- 
thing — like the mumps or measles. 

TONY — I tell you what ! You go in next door and — and 
slyly inquire. 

ROMNEY — And probably find her entertaining her young 
man in the parlor^ 

TONY — {Snorting) — Huh! It's not likely — not at all likely. 
— {Suddenly sits at table, takes pen and writes). 

ROMNEY — Still, it's possible. — {Surreptitiously waving' his 
handkerchief out of window and dropping it) — You, yourself, own 
that she's quite pretty. 

TONY— (5'/jar/'/30— What's her name? 

ROMNEY — Her name? Why — let me see. Christian or 
family name. 

TONY— Both. 

ROMNEY — Her Christian name? I wonder what that would 
be? 

TONY — Her family name will do. What's that? 

ROMNEY— Why— eh— Aludge or— or Fudge. Something that 
rhymes with "budge !" 

TONY— Good Lord! 

ROMNEY— Is it important? 

TONY — Only that I'm writing a note to her. I was going 
to send it in to her, but if I don't know how to address it 

ROMNEY — Perhaps, if you give it to me, I'll be able to 
sneak it to her. 

TONY — I'd be awfully much obliged. — {Handing him sheet 
of paper) — You may read it, if you like. 

ROWNEY— {Protesting)— Oh ! 

TONY — I want you to — I don't like to say things behiiV 
people's backs. 

ROMNEY — {Reading letter) — "My dear fairy god-mother: I 
am hoping that you are late simply because you have seen that 
eminent sentimentalist and distinguished old bore, D. ^-iomney 
Evans — " — (Looking M/')^Thanks ! — (Reading) — "distinguished old 
bore — prowling about at my window. But, thank God, he is taking 
this note with him. Now the fearful thought occurs to me that 
you may be ill. If you are ill, send for a doctor at once — and 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 65 



I think you had better have two or three nurses. If you are not ill, 
please remember that I am sitting here waiting for that manuscript 
which must go into the post to-night. If I do not hear from you 
within ten minutes, I shall do something absolutely desperate. What 
it will be, I haven't the slightest idea — I shall depend upon the 
inspiration of the moment. Oh, to be so forgotten by one's only 
fairy god-mother. Fbrlornly yours, The Cinderella-Man." 

TONY — (Handing Romney unaddrcssed envelope) — You see 
how important it is. 

ROMNEY — {Folding letter and placing it in envelope) — Yes, 
indeed. I'll do my best to get it to Miss Mudge. — {Goes toward 
trap. He now has on coat and hat). 

TONY — Thank, you ever so muqh. Of course, you under- 
stand that you're not always a bore by any means. — {Follow 
Romney to trap). 

ROMNEY— (Dr3;/>')— That's a comfort. 

TONY — {Contritely) — Romney — you know that was all just 
my ftm. — {Impulsively holding out his hand) — You're a bully 
old brick. 

ROMNEY — {Taking his hand, smiling) — A good thing to stub 
your toe on.— {From below L. comes the sound of WALTER 
NICOLL'S voice). 

WALTER — {From below) — That's all right — I tell you. he's 
an old friend. He'll want to see me. — {Romney and Tony start, 
surprised, look down trap. WALTER NICOLLS appears in the 
trap. He is dressed ultra-fashionably, silk hat on back of his 
head, canary-colored gloves, canary-colored gaiters, cutaway suit 
under overcoat, stick, etc.) 

WALTER — {His head and shoulders showing above the stage) 
— Hello, Tony — old scout! — {Waving a hand as he ascends). 

TONY — -{Amased — not pleased) — Is that you — Spongey? — 
{Romney looks from one to the other with puzzled amazement) . 

WALTER — {Holding hat across rail to Tony) — Right ho! — 
{Tony looks at Walter with mingled amusement and annoyance) . 

ROMNEY — {Cutting in) — This young man's name was Nicolls 
— when I met him. 

WALTER — {Now up on the stage, offering his hand to 
Romney)- — So it was — and it hasn't changed since. "Spongey" is 
Tony's pet name for me. I know your map. — {Snap fingers) — 
I've got you now. Evans. That's you. 

ROMNEY — {Nods — glances at Tony) — I didn't know you two 
were friends. 

WALTER — Friends ! — we went to Harvard together — for a 



66 THE CINDEIiELLA-MAN 



while. I got bored with it — quit. You stuck it out — didn't you 
Tony? 

TONY — Yes ; but look here, Spongey, I'm busting to know 
how you tracked, me to my lair — as it were. 

WALTER — (To Romney) — He's still the same little old high- 
brow. Five years — hadn't seen him for five years — (To Tony)-r- 
till a week ago — I was in the Fulton National extracting my 
monthly stipend — -I saw you dash through one of those confounded 
revolving doors — I beat it after you — you left the door spinning 
at a hundred mile cHp — I got all balled up with the door. Damn 
near broke my back. I lost you, old scout, but I got your address 
from the bank — and here I am. — (Takes stage to R. looking about). 

TONY — Of course, you know, I'm awfully glad to see you 
and all that; but this is my busy day. 

ROMNEY — Yes, Tony just fired me out — suppose we go to- 
gether, Mr. Nicolls. 

WALTER— Thanks. Thanks. Nice idea, but— 

TONY — (Breaking in, trying to lead Walter to trap) — I'm 
up to my eyes in work, old man — drop around some evening — 
next month. — (Romney glances surreptitiously, anxiously at window 
up C.) 

WALTER — (Holding back) — This isn't just a social call. No. 
Little deal on hand — won't wait. 

TONY — (Trying to lead Walter to trap) — No use, Spongey — 
(With significance) — understand? 

WALTER — (Holding back) — It isn't that — not what you think. 
Don't let me keep you, Mr. Evans. 

ROMNEY — (Taking Walter by the arm to lead him to trap) 
-~VYt got my car outside — I'll tell the chauffeur to take you 
wherever you want to go. Come on. 

TONY — It's a very smart car- — let him drive you 'round the 
park. 

WALTER — (Breaking away from them, going R.C.) — You 
tempt me — you tempt me. — (To Romney) — Tell your chauffeur to 
wait — I'll be down in ten minutes.. 

ROMNEY— It's now— or not at all. 

WALTER — Sorry — but deals before delights. — (With a bow 
to Romney) — Hope to see you again, Mr. Evans — (Sits R.C. Tony, 
disgusted, waves Romney to go). 

ROMNEY — (Disgncstcd at Walter; nods to him) — By-by, 
Tony ! 

— -(Glances anxiously at window and exits down trap. Tony turns 
to Walter, standing over him). 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 67 



WALTER — {Looking about) — Quite a jolly little crow's nest! 

TONY — Spongey, I'll give you thirty seconds to tell me what 
you want — so cut it short. 

WALTER — Are you still writing music? 

TONY — {Impatiently) — I never wrote music. 

WALTER — Oh, yes "you did — some pretty snappy stufif. Re- 
member that dance you wrote for the Hasty Pudding — the — eh — 
"Fleet of Time." 

TONY— The Flight of Time. 

WALTER — Zowie ! It was a wild thing ! Have you got a 
copy of it? 

TO^Y— {With emphatic disgust)— N0\ 

WALTER — Couldn't you write it over again? 

TONY— What for? 

WALTER— Money ! 

TONY — Who'd pay good money for truck like that? 

WALTER — I'll tell you. A friend of mine is giving a supper 
party — to bring out a little dancer he's discovered. He wants 
something original — full of pep — for her to dance to. And he's 
willing to pay for it. I thought of you — see? Now,' get busy 
and write out that Flight of Time thing. 

TONY — Couldn't do it — haven't written a note for years. 

WALTER — You wouldn't have to write it. You could fake it 
up — PLAY it yourself — on the piano. 

TONY — {Coldly) — That sort of stunt is not in my line. 

WALTER — Oh, don't get up in the air. You'd be treated 
as a contributing artist — and you'd be paid TEN DOLLARS — 
which you would split with me — fifty-fifty. Get me? — {Tony looks 
at him incredulously, then bursts out laughing)— Where's the 
wheese in that? I stick them up for the price — I'm entitled to 
a fair compensation. — {Tony laughs at him again) — Think it's too 
much? Then you take sixty per cent — I'll take forty. You know 
I'm doing this just for the sake of old times. I could get a 
regular professional to do it. 

TONY — {Good-naturedly) — Go to him, Spongey. — {Urges 
Walter to rise). 

WALTER — {Resisting — ama::ed) — You're not going to turn 
down five or six dollars — when all you've got to do is beat the 
box for half an hour? 

TONY — I'm tremendously flattered and obliged — ^but, no thank 
yon\— {Takes Walter by the arm and pulls him out of chair) — 
Come on, Spongey — your time is up. 

WALTER — {Now on his feet, but resisting Tony's efforts to 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



draw him to the trap) — Don't be such a nut! If you won't do 
it for yourself — do it for me. 

TONY — {Drawing him toward trap) — Go get one of your 
professional friends. ' 

WALTER — Oh, hell — I couldn't trust 'em to split with me. 
And, say, I'm temporarily broke. You do this for me and I'll 
do something big for you later. 

TONY — ^The only thing you can do for me is to get out. — 
{Drags Walter toward trap). 

WALTER — {Resisting ; now L.F.) — You'll be sorry, Tony if 
you turn me down like this. I've got something on with a million- 
airess. 

TONY — {Taking Walter's hand and shaking it) — Good luck 
to you, Spongey — ^and — GOOD-BYE! — {Pushes him to trap). 

WALTER — {Peevishly) — You don't need to push me — I'm 
going. — {Steps down into trap). 

TONY — By-by, Spongey. Take care of yourself. 
• WALTER — {Stepping back on stage) — Oh, say, Tony. I've 
got to go to a tea. Lend me the price of a taxi-cab. 

TONY — {Laughing and laying hold of Walter to pitch him, 
downstairs)—! knew a touch was coming — now you go.' — {At 
that mom.ent MARJORIE COMES TO THE WINDOW from R. 
with hood pulled over her head. Seeing Tony engaged, she darts 
away to R. Walter catches a glimpse of Marjorie at the window). 

WKLTY.'R— {Excitedly, gaily) — ^Ahhhhh ! There's a skirt at 
your window. — {Tries to go up stage past Tony). 

TONY — {Sharply, as he forcibly holds him back) — You're 
mistaken. 

WALTER — -{Incredulously) — No, no, Tony! — {Trying to pass 
him) — I tell you — I saw a skirt. 

TONY — {Holding him back) — It was the maid — hanging up 
the clothes. 

WALTER — Oh — oh you can't put that over on me. Some- 
thing doing — something doing! 

TONY — {Flinging Walter back to the trap) — If you don't get 
out of bere — I'll promise you a free ride in an ambulance. 

WALTER — {Protesting) — Don't muss me up. 

TONY — {Fishing a coin out of his pocket) — Then scoot! 
Here's ten cents — take a Fifth Avenue bus. 

WALTER — {Taking coin) — That's an idea. — {Going down 
trap) — So long — you sly old highbrow — with your skirt on the 
roof. — {As he disappears down trap) — Maid hanging up clothes. 
Something doing! Something doing! {Sound of door closing 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 69 



below. Tony snaps his teeth in anger, and goes qfiickly up to 
■moment. It begins to snow outside. He closes the window, turns 
window, raises sash, looks out to R. Whistles. Stays there a 
azvay from it disconsolately. Then he turns back to the window. 
The snow is now falling thickly. He is afraid that the snow will 
keep Marjorie from returning. He goes to the curtain in the L.U. 
corner, and takes an old utnbrella from behind it. He brings um- 
brella down C. and opens it. Its bfoken ribs and torn cover distress 
him. At that moment, MARJORIE APPEARS AT THE WIN- 
DOW, carrying manuscript in a big envelope and basket. She peeps 
in, and making sure that he is alone, she taps on the pane. Tony 
turns with a start, throws the umbrella in the corner, runs up to the 
windozv and opens it). 

MARJORIE — -I came to the window a few minutes ago — there 
was someone here. 

TONY— Yes, yes, he's gone. Thank God you've come at last. — 
(He assists her in through the window, relieving her of the basket). 

MARJORIE— (/nnoc^nf/y)— Why— what's the matter? 

TONY — You're so fearfully late. 

MARJORIE— Am I late? 

TONY — {Pointing out window at clock) — Late? Look at the 
time. It's nearly four. 

MARJORIE — {As though surprised)- — So it is. But you had a 
visitor. 

TONY — Only for a second or two — I expected you at three. 

MARJORIE — You were anxious? 

TONY — You're always so punctual — I thought you might be 
ill. 

MARJORIE — I — I was finishing your manuscript. Here it is. 
— Hands manuscript to him). 

TONY— {Delighted)— Oh, you've finished it— all? 

MARJORIE — Yes. — {Takes basket down L. and sets it on 
trunk ) . 

TONY — {Taking manuscript out of envelope) — That's awfully 
good of you! Now I'll be able to get it off tonight. — {Goes to table 
up stage and prepares to edit manuscript.) 

MARJORIE — {Taking off cloak and shaking snow from, it 
down trap) — So — so you were the least bit worried about me? 

TONY — {Ignoring her remark, examining manuscript)- — It 
looks fine — doesn't it? — So professional. 

MARJORIE — {Hanging her cloak over rail) — I asked you a 
question. 



70 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



TONY — (Now seated at table, preoccupied with manuscript) — 
I beg your pardon. 

MARJORIE — {Standing L.C. looking at him) — I asked you if 
you were the least bit worried about me? 

TONY — {Preoccupied) — Certainly I was worried about you — 
why shouldn't I be? 

MARJORIE — {Slowly approaching table) — When did you be- 
gin to be worried? 

TONY — When you didn't come. 

MARJORIE— Right away— at half after three? 

TONY — {Picking up pen as a signal that he is going to work. 
Speaking patronizingly) — Yes — yes — right away — immediately. 

MARJORIE — {Now at table) — Were you — very much wor- 
ried? 

TO'NY— {Protesting) — My dear Miss Mudge ! — {She looks at 
him in comic surprise) — Yes, I shall call you by your ill-fitting sur- 
name whenever you distract me from my work. Now, like a dear, 
good fairy god-mother go get your knitting and leave me to curry- 
comb my masterpiece. 

MARJORIE — You could have answered me in half as many 
words. 

TONY — {Reprimandingly) — Miss Mudge. — {With a gesture, 
he waves her away from the table.) 

{MARJORIE backs away from the table, watching him as he 
begins to read the "manuscript. Seeing that he does not propose 
to pay any attention to her, she goes to the trunk, picks up his hat 
and coat and hangs them under the curtain up L. Then she returns 
to the trunk, opens it, takes out a dainty work-basket and one of 
Tony's shirts. Then she goes R.C., places basket and shirt on the 
camp chair, carefully carries chair so as to make no noise to the L. 
side of the oil stove. She places chair so that she may have full 
view of Tony. Sits in chair and proceeds to sew buttons on the 
shirt Silence for a moment as she sews and watches Tony read- 
ing the manuscript). 

TONY — {Without looking up) — This is wonderfully clean copy 
— not an error so far. — {Marjorie beams. Silence again. Then 
with a snort) — Hah ! I never wrote "luffing." I wrote "laughing." 

MARJORIE — Why — where's that?^ — {Puts down her work and 
goes to Tony). 

TONY — In act one. This piece of business : "Kiri-Sawa enters 
luffing." 

MARJORIE — {Leaning on his shoulder, looking over manu- 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN - 71 



script) — Oh! That! I — I thought he was intended to be intoxicated 
— that he came in luffing — (Illustrates) — like a sail boat. 

TONY — (Nodding) — I s-e-e. He would come in like that — so 
he would. That's better. — (Marjorie goes to the trunk, opens it, 
takes out kettle and fills it from a water bottle, which stands on 
floor upper side of trunk. Tony goes on reading the manuscript. 
Marjorie sets the kettle on top of the stove with a care to make no 
noise, and is about to resume her sewing, when Tony speaks). 
TONY — Here's a verse that has never satisfied me. 
MARJORIE — You mustn't get so finicky about it — or you'll 
never finish. 

TONY — (Running his hand desperately through his hair) — I 
can't let this go.- — (Marjorie goes up to table). 

TONY — It's the song of the guard on the battlement. — (Hands 
sheet of manuscript to her) — The first verse. 
MARJORIE— (i^^atfm^^) 

"The voice of the watch is a spell, 

He paces his beat " 

TONY — That's rotten ! I only put in "spell" to make it rhyme 
with "well." 

MARJORIE— Wait a minute! I've got it— I think. How 
would this do? 

"All's well! 

Is the call of the sentinel." 
TONY — (Jumping up) — Oh! That's bully! — (Reaching across 
table and taking sheet from her, reading and chanting) — 
"All's well! All's well! All's well! (Three times) 
Is the SONG of the sentinel, 
Who paces his beat 
Through rain and steet 
From roll of taps till morning sun; 
Each hour cries, from sun to sun — 
All's well!" 
Ah! Fine! What? — (Sits and pick§ up pen). 

MARJORIE — And at the end you should have three "All's 
wells !" The first by the tenor on the stage — the second by the 
baritone at some distance — and the third by the bass away off — like 
this: — (Illustrates, her own voice) — All's well! — (Illustrates, manly 
voice) — All's ^N&\\\— (Illustrates, low and gruff) — All's well! 

TONY — (Applauding) — Thank you very much, indeed. That's 
an inspiration. I'll put it in, in ink. — (Sits and goes to work). 

(Marjorie returns to the camp chair, picks up her work, sits 
and sezvs. She finishes the button, folds the shirt lovingly, lays it 



72 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



in her lap, gives it an affectionate pat. Then she takes a stocking 
with an enormous hole in it from the basket. The hole puzzles her 
— she does not know how to darn a stocking anyway; but she goes 
gravely at it in the most incompetent way. She is happy. She begins 
unconsciously to hum the- music of Tony's song, which she sang in 
Act I.) 

TONY — {Looking up) — How can I concentrate my mind when 
you are singing at the top of your voice? 

MARJORIE — I'm sorry — but I v/as feeling so — so happy. 

TONY — I'll have to send you home, if you don't stop being so 
violently happy. 

MARJORIE- — I'll try not to make so much noise about it. 

TONY — Thank you! — {Resumes work. Then he looks up) — 
What have you got to be so happy about, anyway? No — no! Don't 
answer me! You'll start an engrossing conversation. — {Marjorie 
sits still as a mouse, sewing. After a moment's silence) — This is a 
ripping act — only I don't like the finish of it — when the Princess 
Wisteria slaps Prince Hollybrook's face and runs away. 

MARJORIE — But he was very impudent to kiss her — right in 
front of her own palace door — anyone might have seen them. 

TONY — Anyone might have' seen them ? What's that got to do 
with it? 

MARJORIE — Everything ! That's why she was so angry. 

TONY — I thought it was because he kissed her. 

MARJORIE— Not because he kissed her — but because he did 

it PUBLICLY. 

TONY — By Jove, you know more about my heroine than I do 
myself. 

MARJORIE — Goose! She couldn't possible be angry — just 
because he kissed her — she loves him already. 

TONY — {Rising and coming down to R. side of oil stove) — 
Oh, you're mistaken ! It's not till the last act that she loves him. 

MARJORIE — She loves him in the second — ^but she doesn't say 
anything about it until the last. 

TONY— You're sure of that? 

MARJORIE— Positive. 

TONY — If that's the case — then there should be some expres- 
sion of it at the end of ACT II — after the slapping. — {Pondering) 
— How would that be? You'll have to help me work this out. — 
{Suddenly) — You're the Princess. 

MARJORIE — Yes. — {Rises, puts down work-basket) — And 
you're the Prince. 

TONY — Y-e-s. Come down here. — {They come down stage 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 73 



L.C.) — Now — I say — so and so, and so and so, and so and so — kiss 
you! — (Tony tentatively goes through the pantomime^ all but actu- 
ally kissing her. She blinks her eyes, a little excited and nervous 
at this point, standing very stiffly) — Now you slap me. — (She gives 
him a gentle pat on the cheek) — Oh, harder — I've got to get into the 
spirit of the thing. 

MARJORIE — But — but you — you didn't really kiss — me. 

TONY — (Laughing) — All right, we'll start all over again. 

MARJORIE — (Hurriedly, embarrassed) — Oh, I didn't mean 
that — I was only explaining why I didn't really slap — (Tony makes 
a movement to kiss her. She slaps him). 

TONY — That's better! — (Both laugh) — Now you run into the 
palace. — (Points to trunk. Marjorie jumps up on the trunk)- — Oh! 
That's the idea. Stay there ! The Prince starts away laughing. — 
(Goes to trap and starts to descend) — The Princess appears at the 
window above him and — hearing" him laughing — throws down the 
flower pots at him. Curtain. 

MARJORIE — (Leaning over the rail toward Tony) — Do you 
think that's the way she'd express her affection? 

TONY — It would be pretty effective. 

MARJORIE — Come back. — (He returns) — Listen to me.- — (She 
jumps dotvn from trunk) — When the Princess runs into the palace, 
she calls her two giant Nubian slaves. She says to them — very 
angrily — "Kill that man" — and runs up to the window — (Jumping 
up on trunk again) — You are going away laughing. — (Tony starts 
dozvn through the trap) — The slaves rush out — they seize you — they 
are about to slay you — when I scream from the window — "Don't 
you dare hurt that man or my father will feed you to the tigers." 
Curtain. 

TONY — (Reaches up to her, offering his hand) — That's im- 
mense. — (She shakes his hand) — The action, the psychology — is 
right — stunning ! All it wants is the proper dialogue — the lines. — 
(Comes up on stage). 

MARJORIE — (Beaming) — You'll keep that in about the tigers 
— won't you? 

TONY — (Going to the table up stage) — Surely. It's such a 
nice, lady-like touch. — (Sits at table and picks up pen). 

MARJORIE — (Jumping down from trunk and going to table) 
— It makes me so happy to be able to help you even the least little 
bit. 

TONY — (Patronizingly) — You've helped me a great deal. Now 
— (Waving her away from the table) — I'll let you know when I 
want you to help me again. — (Prepares to write). 



74 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE — You — you won't forget that they're Nubian 
slaves? 

TONY — No — I've got it all down on my mental cuff. (He 
starts to write. She starts to speak, checks herself with an effort, 
blinks, looks at him, gives a little sigh, looks out the window, notes 
the hour with a start, and turning, coming quickly but noiselessly 
down L.C. She takes the cushions from the trunk, lays them on the 
floor above the trunk, folds the couch-cover and sets it on top of 
the cushions; opens the trunk, takes out a white table-cloth and 
hangs it over the rail. Then she carefully picks up the folding 
table, which stands below the trunk and carries it C. below the 
stove. With an eye on Tony, she carefully snaps the legs of the 
table into position, and sets it up; spreads it with white cloth; goes 
to trunk and takes out china, knives, forks and spoons and arranges 
them for two people on the table. All the. while moving about 
quickly noiselessly, so as not to disturb the author. Then she 
brings the basket from down L., opens it and takes out half of a 
baked ham, some salad, a bottle of olives, a pot of jam, a plate of 
sandwiches, a cake. Now she takes the kettle from stove and brews 
the tea. Accidently, she knocks a spoon onto the floor). 

TONY — {Looking up, impatiently)- — Upon my word. How can 
I work when you're making such a clatter ! 

MARJORIE — But it's time you stopped, anyway — -and got your 
tea. 

TONY — But how can I get this job finished, when you're always 
bothering to feed me? 

MARJORIE — {Warmly) — You can't work without being — fed. 

TONY — {Warmly) — ^I can't work when I'm stuffed! 

MARJORIE — {Getting angry) — If you — you stuff yourself — it 
isn't my fault. 

TONY — {Angrily) — I don't stuff myself. It's you — you're for- 
ever making me eat. Why, you've kept me so stuffed for the past 
week that — that half the time my brains have utterly refused to 
work. 

MARJORIE — {Angrily, stamping her foot) — It isn't true! 
They've worked better than ever — you said so yourself. 

TONY — Now you've got me so upset I can't work. 

MARJORIE— I'm glad of it. 

TONY — {Angrily) — Don't you realize that I've got to get this 
thing done. 

MARJORIE — {Angrily) — You'd finish it much better if you 
stopped and had your tea first. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 75 



TONY — For heaven's sake let me finish now, while I'm in the 
mood. 

MARJORIE — You're not in the mood now. And the tea will 
spoil. 

TONY — Oh, hang the tea ! Here I am, trying my best to keep 
myself in the atmosphere of romance — and you keep dragging me 
out of it into the commonplace of material things. If you'll leave 
me alone for five minutes, I'll be through. — (Tony doggedly resumes 
reading the manuscript. Marjorie looks at him, the tears starting in 
her eyes. She turns away, goes to the upper side of trunk, sinks 
down on cushions, which are on the floor, puts her head in her arms, 
her arms on the edge of the trunk and sobs silently. After a 
moment, Tony finishes his manuscript). 

TONY — {Without looking up, as he makes a neat pile of his 
manuscript) — There. It's done. Didn't have to change a word in 
the last pages. Awfully good typewriting. Do you know, you could 
make your living — (Looks up, sees her in a miserable little huddle at 
the trunk. Jutnps up alarmed) — Why — why what's the matter? — 
(Comes down to her quickly) — What's — what's wrong? — (Marjorie 
does not respond. Tony is puzzled, anxious, alarmed. Ruffles up 
his hair, desperately) — I must have hurt you — somehow! But you 
know I didn't mean to. It's my damned temperament. When I get 
working I'm not a fit companion for a — a pre-historic monster. — 
(Drops on one knee beside her, touching her shoulder) — I'm terribly 
sorry. I'd rather cut my tongue out than say one word that would 
hurt you. And you've been so good to me — helped me so much. 
I'd never have finished my opera, if it hadn't been for you and the 
way you've looked after me. Really, it makes me ill to think that I 
should have hurt you in the slightest way. You, who have been so 
wonderful to me — made me so happy. I don't know what I should 
do WITHOUT you ! I'm so impatient, so restless all day until you 
come. Why, you're just the dearest little pal in the world. And 
when you're gone, I'm terribly, terribly lonely — -and the only thing 
that cheers me then is the thought that you are coming again to- 
morrow. — (Marjorie puts out her hand to him. He takes it eagerly 
hut tenderly and holds it in silence for a moment. She looks up at 
him, tearfully. He speaks with a gush of feeling) — Your poor little 
thing — you've been crying. 

MARJORIE — (Wiping her eyes on her apron, as she takes a 
fezv convulsive breaths) — No — no I haven't. 

TONY— I'm a beast. 

MARJORIE — No — no you're not. It's all — all right now. 

TONY— You — you forgive me? — (She smiles and nods. He 



76 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



holds out his hands. She takes them. He helps her to her feet) — 
Ah, that's like my dear, little fairy god-mother. Now, what do you 
say to tea? — {Leads her to the table down C. Sees work-basket in 
chair. Picks it up and lifts out sock) — By Jove! You've been darn- 
ing my socks. 

MARJORIE — (Smiling at him, lovingly) — Y-e-s. 

TONY — (Examining the sock) — That's a very beautiful piece 
of work. 

MARJORIE— (P/raj^-c?)— You— you think it's all right? 

TONY — Marvellous ! I don't see how you do it. I've tried it, 
myself. — (Places work-basket on trunk) — Now, you sit down. — 
(Places camp chair at L. side of table. She sits. He goes up to 
table, gets chair and brings it dozvn R. side of small table. Mean- 
while she watches him with a sigh. He sits opposite her)— Yon 
know, I'm famished. Everything looks so good. 

MARJORIE — (Pouring tea) — I'm afraid tliis tea's too strong. 

TONY — Not for me. But perhaps you'd better have a little hot 
water in yours. — (Jumps up and gets kettle from stove, pours water 
into Marjorie's cup and puts kettle back on stove) — That's one of 
the handsomest hams I've ever seen. — (Sits at table) — I'm beginning 
to feel like a party. You don't know what a relief it is to me to get 
that job off my chest. — (Three distinct knocks heard below; Mar- 
jorie starts) — It's Primrose! He's crazy about you. I'll have to let 
him come up for a minute. — (Calling) — Come in. 

MARJORIE — (Handing Tony cup of tea) — Anyone so good to 
you as he is — (Primrose appears through trap, smiling, apologetic, 
a little embarrassed). 

PRIMROSE — I begs pardon — I — I was comin' up to — to see if 
the oil stove was burnin' all right. • 

TONY — I think you'll find that it's behaving itself perfectly. 

PRIMROSE — (Shuffling toward the oil stove, now above the 
tea-table, his hands folded beatifically in front of him, bobbing to 
Marjorie) — How-de-doo, Miss. I hopes you're feelin' as good as 
usual. — (Stands there, beaming at her). 

MARJORIE — Yes, thank you! And how are you, Primrose? 

PRIMROSE — If I was feelin' bad — which I ain't — it'd cure me 
— the sight of you. Miss, and Mr. Quintard sittin' here together at 
the table. It do look so cheery and affable — like a little man and 
his wife. — (Tony bursts out laughing. Then looks at Marjorie, who 
is so embarrassed that she puts a dozen lumps of sugar in her tea 
cup) — I often says to myself — "Now wouldn't it be nice if them 
two — " 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 77 



TONY^ — (Suddenly offering Primrose the plate of sandwiches) 
— Have a sandwich ! Have a sandwich ! 

PRIMROSE — -(Taking a sandwich gingerly) — Thank you — 
very kindly, sir. 

MARJORIE — (Cutting HUGE piece of cake) — And — and a 
piece of cake. — (Offers it to Primrose) . 

PRIMROSE— (TaHnf/ the co/fe^)— Thank you, Miss. As I 
was sayin' " 

MARJORIE — (Suddenly) — Won't you have some tea? 

PRIMROSE — If you'd be so — (Primrose stops short, his atten- 
tion attracted by Tony, who shakes his head violently and waves him 
to go) — so — kind — as — as What is it you're wantin', sir? 

TONY — Nothing. Nothing. I was only thinking that the 
Great She-Bear — (Primrose starts uneasily, with a glance at the 
trap)- — Well, you know, she's likely to be looking for you. 

PRIMROSE — I'm obliged to you for thinkin' of it. She's in a 
fierce humor today. I guess I'd better be goin'. — (Waves cake and 
sandwich) — Thank you, very much, Miss. — (Bobs to her and 
shuffles to trap). 

MARJORIE — I hope you'll come up again tomorrow — at tea 
time. 

PRIMROSE — If you don't mind — thank you — thank you — 
good-day, Miss. — (Primrose descends through trap. Sound of door 
closing below. Tony leans back in his chair and looks at Marjorie, 
who is drinking tea. He looks at her seriously, studying her, very 
much interested. Presently she looks up. She is surprised at his 
serious, steady look. Her eyes widen, she smiles a little, question- 
ingly, then becomes embarrassed) . 

TONY — (After a pause) — Do you know, you've told me very 
little about yourself. — (She glances up at him for an instant, won- 
deringly. After a pause) — You're almost as much alone in the 
world as I am — aren't you? 

MARJORIE — (Without looking up; in a subdued voice)- — " 
Almost. 

TONY— I don't often think of things like this; but if I should 
die tonight it wouldn't afifect a single soul. — (Marjorie keeps her 
head down) — And if anything should happen to you — is there any- 
one who would care very much? 

MARJORIE — (Her head down — shaking it) — No! Not now. 

TONY — (Starting) — Ah, but there was someone. — (Marjorie 
nods) — Recently? 

MARJORIE — {Head down — subdued voice) — My — mother. 

TONY — (Surprised, touched) — Ooooh ! I — I didn't know. I'm 



78 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



awfully sorry. It's been a long time — now— since I lost my mother, 
but I still miss her. So I know how — how sad and lonely you 
must be. 

MARJORIE — (Looking up at him. her mouth quivering a little. 
Smiling the least bit) — I try — to be happy — {With a sigh) — And 
sometimes — I succeed. 

TONY — It's worse — at night — isn't it? 

MARJORIE— Y-e-s. 

TONY — {After a pause) — My mother made such a damned 
baby of me. 

MARJORIE— Of course she did! 

TONY — Yours must have made a — a bigger baby of you. 

MARJORIE — I don't know — but I can't get used to going to 
sleep wi.hout having her tuck me in. — {Pause) — And I — I put her 
to bed myself for her last — last sleep — away — away over there — all 
alone — in France — and I'm here. — {She gives a little sob and puts 
her face in her hands. Tony is very much touched. He doesn't 
know what to do. He feels in his pocket for a handkerchief, takes 
out a clean but torn handkerchief, offers it to her. She pays no 
attention. He touches her. She looks up at him, takes handkerchief 
and dries her eyes). 

TONY — {Suddenly) — Do you know anything about marrying? 
— -{Startled, she looks up at him in wonder. He stands there look- 
ing down at her, directly into her eyes with growing admiration and 
affection). 

TONY — {Slowly, subdued tone) — You've — got — the — most — 
wonderful — ^eyes. — {Marjorie drops her eyes and sighs; her head 
droops. Tony looks down at the top of her head for a m,oment; 
then slowly puts out a hand as though to touch her; hesitates, with- 
draws hand. Now he puts his hands in his pockets, takes, out a 
few coins — all he has — looks at them, then looks about the room at 
his poor possessions, sighs, puts the coins back into his pocket, turns 
and goes slozvly up to the window. Marjorie looks after him, 
piissled. He is now looking out at the window. After a moment, 
he turns to his writing table, sees his manuscript, picks it up) — I 
wonder of this thing's any good. — {Looking at the manuscript, pon- 
dering) — "The Getaway of Dreams." 

MARJORIE — {Surprised) — The Getaway of Dreams? 

TONY — -Didn't I tell you? That's the title I've given it — came 
to me last night. 

MARJORIE — {Rising) — It's an inspiration! — {Starts up stage 
toward him.). 

TONY — You never heard of a man marrying on "inspiration." 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 79 



— (Marjorie stops short up L.C.) — It can't be done. — (Throws 
mamiscript on table) — All I could offer a girl today would be a 
little — inspiration ! Hah ! 

MARJORIE — Wouldn't it be a — a sensible idea then if you 
were to — to marry a girl who had some — some money of her own? 

TONY — {Turning on her warmly) — -I tell you — I wouldn't 
marry a girl with money. 

MARJORIE — But — but some awfully nice girls come that way. 

TONY — Are you trying to interest me in the Princess? 

MARJORIE — It isn't fair for you to be so prejudiced against 
her. She's the same sort of a girl that — that I am. 

TONY — {Impatiently) — Oh — you're worth a million princesses. 

MARJORIE — T-thank you. — {Tony looks at her with admira- 
tion. She looks away from him — down stage. Her eyes fall on the 
kettle. She starts for it suddenly) — Won't you have some hot tea? 

— {She takes the kettle from the stove, goes to the tea table and 
begins to brczv tea).^ 

TONY — {Contemplatively, coming down R.)^li it should get 
the prize 

MARJORIE I'm sure it will— it must.— {Places kettle back 

on stove) . 

TONY — {Eagerly) — You have great faith in it — haven't you? 

MARJORIE — It can't fail. — {Resumes her seat L. side of tea- 
table). 

TONY — In that case I should have ten thousand dollars. — {Sits 
R. side of table. Marjorie is picking up hie cup) — A man could 
marry on ten thousand — couldn't he? 

. MARJORIE— Oh, yes, indeed!— (Loo/ej into tea-pot). 

TONY — {Leaning across the table) — And my prospects would 
be mighty good — especially if the opera made a hit. 

MARJORIE — {Pouring tea) — I think your prospects are aw- 
fully good^now. 

TONY — Btit a man has got to have some ready money. He 
can't ask a girl to take chances. 

MARJORIE — {Handing Tony a cup of tea) — ^A girl is always 
glad to — to take chances — when she's sure that she's taking them 
with the — right man. 

TONY — Ah, that's the marvellous thing about them. But a man 
doesn't like to ask them to take chances. 

MARJORIE — You mustn't treat us as though we were perish- 
able freight — though we like to have you think of us that way — 
sometimes. 

TONY — It would be the most wonderful adventure — 



80 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE — To sail into life — with nothing but love for a 
boat. 

TONY — But you can't sail without wind. — {They look at each 
other for a moment) — But, by Jove — that opera of mine shall raise 
the wind for me. — "The Getaway of Dreams." 

MARJORIE — -The Getaway of Dreams! — {Picking up her tea- 
cup, rising) — To its success. — {Tony rises, tea-cup in hand). 

TONY — To you, little fairy god-mother. — {As they clink cups 
across the table — the GREAT SHE-BEAR suddenly appears 
through the trap). 

SHE-BEAR- — {Thundering in anger) — So this is the sort of 
thing that's going on in my house. — {Tony is dumbfounded. Mar- 
jorie is frightened. She drops her cup, and puts out a hand to Tony. 
They rise. He takes her hand and drawing her across to him back 
of table, holds her hand protectingly. The She-Bear pours out the 
following furiously) — What sort of a house do you think I keep? 
It's respectable — respectable — I tell you. And I won't have a lodger 
of mine carousing in his room with a "chicken." Do you hear? 
With a "chicken" — smuggled in the devil knows how. Where do 
you think you are? This isn't the tenderloin. This is a respectable 
house — and — {Pointing to Marjorie) — you'll get out of it — for good 
and all — {Taking violet scarf from under her apron and throwing it 
down by trunk) — or out he goes. 

TONY — {Trembling) — Get out of my room! 

SHE-BEAR — {Furiously) — -That strumpet goes! 

TONY — {Darting toward She-Bear) — Another word — and I'll 
pitch you down those stairs! — {The She-Bear looks at Tony, quails 
a little before his furious glance, growls inarticulately) . 

TONY — Go-o ! — {The She-Bear goes down through the trap) — 
I leave this house tonight ! 

{The She-Bear disappears. Marjorie is standing R.C. above 
the tea-table and the stove, her hands clasped on her breast, almost 
petrified. Tony is standing dazed down L.C. Sound of a door 
closing below. He turns slowly and looks at Marjorie. They look 
at each other piteously, heart-broken. Their paradise has been 
shattered. The She-Bear's evil thought of them stands betzveen 
them). 

{It has been growing late in the afternoon. The light is going. 
It is now dusky outside the window. The snow is falling again). 

{With a great sigh, Tony takes Marjorie's cloak from the rail, 
goes to her, and gently puts it about her shoulders. Then he goes 
back to the trunk and picks up her work-basket, looks into it, slowly 
takes out his socks and drops them on the trunk. Carries the work- 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 81 



basket to her. She takes it; looks at him tearfully. He goes up to 
the window and opens it. She goes slowly up to him. She holds 
oufa hand to him. He takes it, presses it warmly. She draws closer 
to him. It is evident that she would fall into his arms. He gently 
leads to the window. He helps her up on the box and out through 
the window). 

{He still has her hand, now clasped in his across the window 
sill. He stoops and kisses her hand, then lets it go; and slowly 
closes the window — and fastens it). 

(She stands outside, the snow falling about her, looking in at 
him, with a pleading expression. He shuts his eyes and turns to the 
writing table. Her hand goes to her face. She disappears from the 
window to R.) 

(He pauses at the table, slowly takes up the manuscript, comes 
down to the trunk and pulls it out from rail. He opens the trunk 
slowly and drops the manuscript into it. He sees Marjorie's violet 
scarf. He sinks down beside the trunk, taking the scarf in his 
hands. His head droops, until it rests on the edge of the open^ 
trunk). 

CURTAIN. 



82 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



ACT IV 

(A Week Later. Night.) 

SCENE: 

(Drawing room of CANER'S house as in Act I, but with the 
furniture partially rearranged. On the L. the davenport has been 
moved so that it now stands with its length up and down the stage 
facing the fireplace. The big table stands at its back. One of the 
huge throne chairs has been brought down L.C. facing the audience 
and near the table. There is a high foot-stool in front of the throne 
chair. The rest of the furniture remains as placed in Act I. There 
are flowers on the tables, on the chimney piece, on the music stand 
and the piano in profusion. There are big handsome sofa-pillows 
on the davenport, the throne chairs, and on the settee below the 
piano. There are tzvo "Safe White" bird cages of ivory-white 
etiamel on high standards with canaries in them. One stand by the 
windows down stage R., another below the fireplace L.) 

(MARJORIE is discovered standing at the window R. looking 
out and upward as at the close of Act I. She wears a fluffy, white 
evening dress. She is pale). 

(BLODGETT, the butler, enters C.E.) 

BLODGETT — {Looking about for Marjorie; then discovering 
her)- — Miss Marjorie. — {She starts, looks around at him) — Dr. 
Thayer has come to see you, Miss. 

MARJORIE — {Quietly) — I don't want to see him. — {Marjorie 
goes behind the curtains at the windows. DR. THAYER enters 
C.E. from R. He wears a smart cutaway and striped trousers. He 
looks about for Marjorie. Blodgett- points to the curtains R. and 
exits C.E. to L.) 

THAYER — {Going toward the windows R.) — I've had patients 
hate me so that they pulled the bed-clothes over their heads at the 
sight of me, but I've never had one wrap herself up in the drawing- 
room curtains. Come now, stick out your tongue at me and I'll be 
satisfied — {He waits a moment, then parts the curtains, takes Mar- 
jorie by the arm and draws her out). 

MARJORIE — {Quietly) — Please leave me alone. I'm not your 
patient. 

THAYER — Oh yes you are. I'm the house physician. I tend 
everything in it, from the Great Mogul himself, down to the cat. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 83 



MARJORIE — We haven't a cat — any more. I gave it away — it 
frightened the canaries. 

THAYER— But we have a kitten. And the Great Mogul tele- 
phoned me that the kitten is sick. 

MARJORIE — If you mean me — I'm not sick. 

THAYER — You're not feeling very frisky — you've lost your 
appetite — you won't go out, even in your brand-new, big, red car. 

MARJORIE — {Contemptuously)- — A red car 

THAYER— Ah ! You don't like the color of it. We'll have it 
changed. What do you say to a nice sky blue? 

MARJORIE — I don't want a car. I don't want any of those, 
horrid, expensive things. I don't want to be rich. I want to be 
poor. — {She goes down L. to bird cage and begins to feed the 
canary ) . 

THAYER — Then you are sick. — (He follows her) — Now, this 
loss of appetite — we'll have to stimulate your desire for food a little 
— humor your palate — and at the same time make things easy for 
your tummy. — {Taking out prescription book and fountain pen) — 
To begin with — I'm going to give you a tonic — something very 
pleasant to taste— (Writing a prescription) — Your father says you 
ate no dinner tonight. I'm going to order you a supper — to be eaten 
on top of this nice cocktail I'm mixing for you. — {Hands her pre- 
scription. She looks at it) — Now, here's what you must have: 
Clam-broth — clear; white meat of the chicken; asparagus tips on 
toast ; and, if you like, you may have vanilla ice cream and lady 
fingers. No tea — no coffee. I put you on your honor. — {Taking 
prescription from her) — You'd better let me have that. I'll leave it 
at the drug store myself and have it sent around to you in a jiffy.— 
{Holding out his hand to her) — Now, you're going to be a good 
girl and take it — aren't you? 

MARJORIE — {Listlessly. Politely taking his hand) — Thank 
you for coming. 

THAYER — Pleasure, I'm sure. — {Going up C.) — I'll drop in 
tomorrow. My regards to your father. Good-night. 

MARJORIE— Good-night!— (r/iaj'^r exits CD. to R. Mar- 
jorie sinks down on settee below piano, her head in her hands for 
a moment; then rises and goes to windows R., stands there, looking 
out and upward) 

"Out of his heart he builds a home.'" 
{After a moment, she crosses to the big table back of davenport 
L.C., opens drawer and takes out Tony's original manuscript written 
in ink, climbs into throne chair L.C. and begins to read it. BLOD- 
GETT enters C.E. from L. much disturbed; comes down C.) 



84 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



BLODGETT — Miss Marjorie, that old person from next door 
— is here again. He insists — he must see you. 

MARJORIE— (Eagerly)— Yes \ Yes! I want to see him. 

BLODGETT — I don't know what your father would say 

MARJORIE — (Firmly) — You know what I say — I want to see 
him — at once. — (Blodgett sighs, shakes his head, goes up C.E. and 
beckons off L. Marjorie leans over to the big table and lays the 
manuscript on it; then half kneeling on the chair looks eagerly to- 
ward C.E. 

(PRIMROSE enters C.E. He wears the saiue shabby clothes 
as in Acts II and III under an old overcoat, and carries a battered 
derby hat ; but his face is clean and his hair carefully brushed up 
for this visit to Marjorie.) 

(BLODGETT looks at him with great scorn. Primrose returns 
his look with a timid, awesome glance. Then his eye falls on Mar- 
jorie. His face brightens. He bobs to her). 

MARJORIE — Come here, Primrose. You may go, Blodgett- — 
(Blodgett exits haughtily C.E. now ignoring Primrose, who nods 
after him with satisfaction, and shuffles down C.) — Oh, I'm glad 
to see you — I've been so anxious — (Pritnrose takes from his over- 
coat pocket a very small bunch of violets. They are a little crumpled, 
but still fresh. He gives them a shake, to open them up, and offers 
them to Marjorie). 

PRIMROSE — Mr. Quintard says to me — "You go across the 
roof and leave 'em at her window."- — (Marjorie takes the violets 
with a grateful smile, holds them to her nose. She is all but crying 
over them. now). 

PRIMROSE — But he didn't know I was goin' to see you, Miss. 
He doesn't know I've ever seen you since — he moved that night. 

MARJORIE — He's — he's — quite comfortable — now — with your 
sister-in-law? 

PRIMROSE — With my sister-in-law's aunt. Yes, Miss — it's a 
merry clean little garret he's got there — but I do miss the sight o' 
your curtains an' fixin's. 

MARJORIE — He shouldn't have sent them back to me! — (She 
carefully places violets in bosom of dress). 

PRIMROSE — You know him, Miss. But, as he says, there's 
compensations : He's got a elegant old grey rat that goes with the 
garret. 

MARJORIE— Oh ! 

PRIMROSE — Nothin' to be afraid of — it's so tame and toothless 
— it laps milk out o' his hand — it does. Now what it is he calls the 
beast? — Uncle Sam — on account of its long grey whiskers. And he's 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 85 



got a fine view from his window — at night. He can see one o' them 
big electric advertising signs. It's a bottle of beer, pourin' itself into 
a glass. 

MARJORIE — (With a smile) — That must be interesting. 

PRIMROSE — It's so natural — it makes me thirsty to look at it. 

MARJORIE — {Climbing out of chair, turning to table) — You 
must give me his address. I want to return his manuscript. 

PRIMROSE — (Waiting until she takes pencil-and card from the 
table drawer) — It's 417J/2 West Spring, Miss. (She writes, then 
takes a five dollar bill front the drawer and offers it to Primrose) — 
Thank you. Miss — very kindly, but it's no use! — (Refuses the 
money). 

MARJORIE— Why not? 

PRIMROSE — You know that ten dollars you give me for him? 
Well — I tried to get him to borrow it off me — and he wouldn't; and 
off my sister-in-law's aunt — and he wouldn't ! But the next day I got 
an idea. You know when people die their names is put in the 
papers, and sometimes there's a bit of poetry goes with 'em. So I 
says to Mr. Quinard : "A friend of mine has just died and his 
wife'U give you ten dollars if you'll write a piece of poetry about him 
tellin' what a great man he was and what loss to his family — so she 
can stick it in the paper." He bit, Miss — he did. He's got the ten 
dollars — he earned it. I've got the poetry — and every time I read 
it, it makes me cry. I'm goin' to keep it, and have it put in the 
paper when I croak. 

MARJORIE— What a dear old fraud you are. 

PRIMROSE— Thank you. Miss. 

MARJORIE — You're so ingenious — you could find a way to 
make him take this. 

PRIMROSE— But he ain't needin' it now. Miss. The rent ain't 
much and he don't eat nothin' to speak of. — (Blodgett enters C.E. 
with a bottle of m,edicine wrapped in white paper and red string, as 
it comes from the drug store). 

MARJORIE — (Anxiously) — His appetite is poor — you say? 

PRIMROSE — Werry poor! You wouldn't believe it, but he 
even turns up his nose at boiled beef and cabbage — he don't care 
nothing for food any more. 

BLODGETT — (Coming down to L. side of Marjorie) — Your 
medicine. Miss Marjorie.^ — (Hands it to her). 

MARJORIE— (Taking it)— Thank you.— (To Primrose)— We'll 
have to stimulate Mr. Quintard's desire for food a little and at the 
same time make things easy for his tummy. — (She unwraps bottle. 



86 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



looks at label, takes paper cutter and scratches her name off the 
label) . 

PRIMROSE — Just as you say, Miss. 

MARJORIE — To begin witii — we'll give him this tonic — (Hands 
bottle to Primrose) — Tell him it is pleasant to the taste. The direc- 
tions are there — I've only scratched off my name. 

PRIMROSE— Thank you, Miss.— (Pm^.? bottle in his pocket). 

MARJORIE^Now we must humor his palate. For supper to- 
night, we'll give him clam broth — clear, white meat of the chicken, 
asparagus tips on toast, vanilla ice cream and lady fingers. 

PRIMROSE — But where am I goin' to get 'em. Miss? 

MARJORIE — Come back in an hour — I'll have his supper ready 
for you. You could take it to Mr. Quintard in a basket, couldn't 
you? 

PRIMROSE— I could, Miss— only I'm afeared the Great She- 
Bear — (Marjory winces at the mention of the "Great She-Bear") — 
Won't let me off. 

MARJORIE — Then you must leave her. I intended to speak to 
you about that before. I want to engage you as my footman — 
(Primrose clasps his hands in ecstacy. He is on the point of crying) 
— to run errands for me, bathe the canaries — I feed them — ^water the 
gold fish — exercise the dogs, and keep the squirrels from fighting. I 
don't know what the wages of a footman are — but you shall have 
them. 

PRIMROSE — (In tears) — Oh, Miss, it'll be like heaven to me to 
be your footman. 

MARJORIE — (Rising) — There — there. Primrose. Don't cry — 
you're engaged. — (Giving him the five dollars) — That's for you. The 
basket will be ready in an hour ; and you are to come again to see me 
tomorrow at noon.— (CANER and ROMNEY EVANS enter at 
L.U.E. They are in evening dress. They pause up L. surprised at 
the sight of Primrose.) 

PRIMROSE— Thank you, thank j^ou very kindly. Miss— (Then 
he catches sight of the two men. He is panic-stricken, -bobs to Mar- 
jorie, bobs to the men and scuttles out, C.E. to L.) 

CANER — (Coming down C. to Marjorie) — What's that old rag- 
amuffin doing here? — (Romney comes down L. to fireplace). 

MARJORIE — (Calmly) — I've engaged him as rny footman. 

CANER — Good Lord, you don't suppose I want a tramp like 
that about my house. 

ROMNEY— That'll be all right, Morris. He's to take charge 
of the menagerie. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 87 



CANER — Menagerie ! This thing's got to stop — every time I 
come down stairs, I fall over some strange animal. 

MARJORIES (To Romney) — They frightened him at first, but 
he's really getting used to them now — aren't you. Pa-pa?— (Can^r 
looks at Marjorie, his expression slowly changing from gruffness to 
affection. As she sees this, she impulsively hugs him.. He give her 
an affectionate pat and shakes his head as much as to say "What can 
you do with a girl like that?") 

AlARJORIE — {To Romney) — He is getting used to them. 

CANER — {Throwing sofa pillows out of the throne chair) — 
That's all very well, my dear — {Pushes, away footstool cmd sits in 
chair) — But your m.enagerie does get on my nerves. 

MARJORIE — {Picking up sofa-pillow) — I'm sorry, but you see 
the puppies are all so young yet — when they grow up, they'll learn to 
get out of your way. — {Pokes pillow behind Caner's back) — There — 
that's better — isn't it? 

CANER — I suppose it is — the way you fix them, but I don't like 
the things. 

MARJORIE — {Picking tip second pillow, tucking it in on the 
other side of Caner, soothingly) — That's just because you haven't 
had anyone to make you comfy. — {Places stool in front of chair) — 
Now put your poor foot on the stool. — {Lifts his foot and sets it on 
stool. Bell buzzes in hall. Presently Blodgett crosses in hall from 
L. to R.) 

CANER— Now that you've got me fixed — what about yourself? 
Has Dr. Thaj^er prescribed for you? 

MARJORIE — {Innoccntly)^0\i, yes — yes, Pa-pa. 

CANER — You feel better? — {Marjorie nods) — If he hasn't 
cured you by tomorrow, I'll get a nurse for you. — {Blodgett appears 
at CE. from R.) 

BLODGETT — {Announcing) — Mr. Arthur Sewall. — {Enter 
ARTHUR SEWALL C.E. from R. Wears evening dress. Blodgett 
exits to L.) 

MARJORIE — {Darting up stage, catching Sewall by arm, eag- 
erly) — Oh, tell me — tell me — have you read Mr. Quintard's opera? 

SEWALL — {Coming down C. with Marjorie) — Yes, my dear 
child. Old Papa Sewall has read it. So have the other members of 
the committee. I saw to that. 

CANER— (CMnoM.j/3) )— What's that? 

MARJORIE— One moment. Pa-pa. 

MARJORIE — {To Sewall, anxiously, impatiently) — Well, well! 
What do you think of it? Isn't it wonderful! 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



SEWALL — I'm sorry — but the committee will not have it — no 
— no! 

MARJORIE— (Unable to believe him)— Won't have it? That's 
impossible ! It — it's too — too beautiful. 

SEWALL — Fine ! Fine ! Yes — yes — so we all thought — until 
we came to the last act! But what does your jackass of an author 
do then? He ruins his story by ending it tragically — (Marjorie 
amazed) — The .thing calls for a happy ending. That's all there is to 
.it — ^believe me. 

MARJORIE — {Exasperated)— But it does end happily! You're 
wrong — you're wrong! I'll prove it! — {Going back to the throne 
chair to table) — I'll show you the original manuscript. — {Gathers up 
m,anuscript from table). 

CKNER— {Testily) — Marjorie! Marjorie! What's all this row 
about, anyway? 

MARJORIE — Just a second, Pa-pa! I'm busy. — {Going C. to 
Sewall, turning over last leaves of Mss.) — Here it is — the original — 
in his own handwriting. — {Gives Sewall the m,anuscript.) — There! 

SEWALL — (Taking manuscript) — Let me see. — (Goes to settee 
below piano, sits and begins to go over the manuscript). 

CANER — {Irritated) — What's Marjorie got to do with the 
opera of a man I never heard of? 

MARJORIE — {Turning to Caner) — -I've had it typewritten for 
him. 

SEWALL — {In surprise) — Why — this is entirely different! The 
idiot changed it ! 

MARJORIE— (rwrmn^r to Sewall) — Changed it? Oh — no- 
he — he — ^wouldn't ! 

SEWALL — But he did ! I remember now — the manuscript was 
typewritten — all but the end of the last act! — {Marjorie is puzzled. 
Sewall resumes reading the manuscript. Ronmey lights a cigarette). 

CANER — You had it typewritten for him? 

MARJORIE — {Turning to Caner) — Yes, Pa-pa dear! Grayson 
did it — perfectly. 

CANER — {Sarcastically) — Oh, you don't say — neglected my 
business to typewrite an opera — and for whom, I'd like to know? 

ROMNEY— A friend of mine. 

MARJORIE — {Going to Romney at fireplace) — And mine! 

CANER — I ask you — who is he? 

ROMNEY — {Taking Marjorie's hand) — A man of real talents! 

MARJORIE A genius ! 

CANER — {Impatiently) — What's his name? 

ROMNEY— Quintard. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



MARJORIE— Anthony Quintard. 

CANER — Never heard of him; where did you meet him? Rom- 
ney introduce you ? 

IZ^o^^X'. { (^*»*- «■".»'— w. 

CANER— Yes ! No ! What am I to believe ? 

ROMNEY — It's perfectly all right! I didn't actually introduce 
them — but I told them about each other — 

MARJORIE — (Climbing on davenport, leaning confidentially 
over the back toward Caner) — You see, Pa-pa, we — we were neigh- 
bors. He lives next door. 

CANER — {Incredulously) — There? — {Points down stage R.) 

MARJORIE — Y-yes ! It's only a step across the roof to his 
window. We — we became acquainted. 

CANER— (^w(7n73;)— Good Lord! 

ROMNEY— Take it calmly, Morris! 

CANER — Calmly? When my daughter scrapes an acquaintance 
with a strange man across the roof? 

MARJORIE — {Sinking back on the davenport, sitting on her 
heels) — He's a very fine young man — isn't he, Romney? 

ROMNEY — One of the best in the world. I'll vouch for him in 
every respect. 

CANER — Oh, I don't blame him ! — (To Marjorie) — I suppose 
you stood at your window making eyes at him ! 

MARJORIE — {hmocently) — No! I climbed across the roof to 
his window ! 

CANER — Bless my soul ! And you — Romney — to connive at 
such a performance. 

MARJORIE — It was just like making a call on my neighbor — 
being friendly and so on. 

CANER — In all my life I never heard of such a thing. I abso- 
lutely forbid you tO' cross that roof again. 

MARJORIE— Yes, Pa-pa. Mr. Quintard has moved.— (Cait^r 
is struck speechless). 

SEW ALL — {Suddenly rising from settee, bursting out with en- 
thusiasm) — It's fabulous — I tell you! Fabulous! Nothing could be 
better — {Pounding the manuscript) — Why that young idiot should 
have thrown away a finish like this — I can't understand. 

MARJORIE — {Bounding out of the davenport, triumphantly) — 
Oh, Romney — he likes it — he likes it! — {Goes to Arthur C.) ' 

SEW ALL — It's a little masterpiece. We've got to do something 
about this. 

MARJORIE— (E.raY^'i;^;)— Yes— yes. 



90 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



SEWALL — Quintard must restore the last act — as it is here. Or 
I'll poison him.- — (Bangs manuscript with fist). 

MARJORIE— (Excitedly)— He will— he must! 

ROMNEY — You'll give him the prize then? 

MARJORIE — Oh, yes, yes — of course you will — won't you? 

SEWALL — I promise nothing! It will be up to the jury ! But — 
if they reject it again — old Papa Sewall will take it himself — it's the 
book he wants — and he's going to have it ! 

MARJORIE — You'll give him ten thousand dollars for it? 

SEWALL — Don't you worry — it will make his fortune ! The 
question is, I know these authors — will he restore the original end- 
ing? 

ROMNEY — You'd better have a talk with Quintard tomorrow. 

SEWALL — No — tonight ! Must see him tonight — Doesn't do to 
let these things get cold. Send for him, send for him. 

MARJORIE — Yes — yes — we'll send for him! — (Going to table 
back to davenport and taking card from drawer. She is excited) — 
Romney, you must go after him ! Bring him here ! You needn't tell 
him where you're taking him^ — ^and not a word about me! — (Hands 
Romney card) — There's his address. Telephone for the car. 

ROMNEY — I've got mine- — waiting— (Romney exits C. D. to R.) 

CANER — (Looking Marjorie over) — Huh! You've got a way 
of running things to suit yourself without consulting anyone. 

SEWALL— Just like the old man ! Hahah ! 

MARJORIE— Of course I am exactly like Pa-pa ! 

CANER— You are not! 

SEWALL — She is, Morris — she is ! Adventure ! That's the 
spirit that made you take big chances — and without that you'd never 
been such a dreadful example of the self-made man! Marjorie ad- 
ventures- — just as you did — but for a better purpose. 

CANER — Better purpose? Good Lord! The girl's made a fool 
of herself. 

MARJORIE — (Innocently) — Have I done anything I shouldn't? 

CANER — (Warmly) — Have you done anything you shouldn't? 
You scrape an acquaintance with this Quintard person — in the most 
extraordinary manner 

MARJORIE— It was the best way I knew ! 

CANER — (Hotly to Sewall) — She climbed across the roof — to 
his window. 

SEWALL^Modern. Distinctly modern method. I approve. 

CANER — Outrageous — I should call it ! I wonder what the man 
must have thought of you. 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 91 



MARJORIE — He was very grateful to me — I helped him with 
his opera. 

CANER — It's a wonder he didn't make violent love to you. 

MARJORIE— I wish he had ! 

CANER — (Furiously, to Sewall) — Do you hear that? Do you 
hear that? 

SEWALL — It's interesting — original. 

MARJORIE — He never made the tiniest bit of love to me ! 

CANER — {Angrily) — Why didn't he? Doesn't he like your 
looks ? 

MARJORIE — He likes my eyes. He said so. 

CANER — Oh, he likes your eyes? 

MARJORIE — But he's very poor- — and^ — and fearfully proud. 

CANER — Pooh ! He was cautious — that's what he was^ — cau- 
tious. He wanted to be sure that you"d bring him money — they all do 
— and I tell you, my dear, I won't have it — you shan't marry a beg- 
garly—. 

MARJORIE — Don't be alarmed — he may be fond of me — but 
, when he learns that I'm your daughter — I'll never see him again. 

CANER — Oh, he objects to your father — eh? Who does he 
think you are, anyway? 

MARJORIE — I told him I was the companion of your daughter. 
I had to — he hates rich girls — he doesn't want his wife to support 
HIM — he wants to support her. Oh, be a good, dear Pa-pa, disin- 
herit me ! 

CANER— (^ warred)— What— what? Say that again. 

MARJORIE — You see, if you disinherit me, I'll be poor. Then 
I can go to him^and tell him that I haven't a penny in the world — 
so — so he'll just have to marry me. 

CANER — You're out of your mind ! So is he ! 
1 SEWALL — You're out of your mind, yourself. Listen to me: 
Anyone who can write a book like this — {Pounds manuscript) — is an 
artist. Anyone who can make your daughter love him — is a man ! 
He doesn't want your miserable old money — neither does she. Take 
my advice. Disinherit Marjorie and let her marry Quintard. 

CANER — I will not disinherit her. 

MARJORIE— Oh, please do. 

CANER — Good God, isn't it bad enough to think of your marry- 
ing^going away from me — just when I've found that I want to — to 
have you near me. 

MARJORIE — {Touched) — Oh, Pa-pa! — {Catches his arm). 

CANER — {Giving her hand a pat) — My dear, I've neglected you 
— all your life — shamefully! — {With gruff wistfulness) — Let me 



92 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



make up for it — don't refuse me the one thing I can do for you. I 
want to look after you — -make you happy. I want to give you the 
biggest bank account of any girl in America. And when I die I want 
to leave you every cent I have in the world. 

MARJORIE — Oh, dear Pa-pa — you're going to spoil everything. 
Tony won't have me — rich. 

CANER — (Angrily)- — But what right has this young snip to let 
a matter of money stand between him and a girl like you. It's ab- 
surd. 

SEWALL — No. It's common sense. He's right — she's right — 
you will spoil everything for them. 

MARJORIE — {Turning to Sewall) — Oh, thank you. 

CANER — {Turning to Marjorie, suddenly, strongly) — I'll see 
this Quintard chap — when he comes. 

MARJORIE — Pa-pa, if you do or say anything to offend him, I 
shall never, never love you again. 

CANER — I'm going to make sure of your happiness. — {Mar- 
jorie brightens up. He goes on with a sudden turn to strength) — But 
you can make up your mind to one thing — I shan't disinherit you. — 
{Bell busses in hallway). 

MARJORIE — {Excitedly) — There he is! — {Rushes to win- 
dow R.) 

CANER — {Sharply) — Marjorie! Come here! You're not to 
see that young man until I have interviewed him — reached my deci- 
sion ! 

MARJORIE — {Turning from window; disappointed) — It isn't 
Tony — he'd come in Romney's car. It's just a taxi. — {Blodgett 
crosses in hallway from L. to R.) 

SEWALL — Patience, little lady — these modern princes have no 
seven-league boots ! 

MARJORIE — The fairies lend them motor cars instead. — {To 
Caner) — If this is some dreadful old bore, you'll get rid of him right 
away — won't you? 

CANER — Nothing shall interfere with the business of the night ! 
{Enter Blodgett CD. from R. with card on salver. Marjorie goes up 
to him and takes card from salver. She looks at card. Is amased). 

MARJORIE— (To Blodgett— tartly)— I told you that I never 
wanted to see him again. — {Tears card in two). 

BLODGETT — But he insisted. Miss — said it was very important. 

CANER— Who is it?— {WALTER NICOLLS, in overcoat and 
evening dress, silk hat in hand, white gloves, cane over arm — brushes 
by Blodgett and appears at C.E. Blodgett, not knowing what to do, 
retires to hallway, standing there within sight of audience). 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 93 



WALTER — (Smiling at Marjorie nerznly) — Heard your voice, 
Marjorie! Just had to see you! Been ringing your bell every day 
for a week — can't understand why you're always out when I call ! — 
(Sees Caner, who slowly rises and looks at Walter belligerently)-^ 
How-de-do, Mr. Caner. — (Nods to Sewall, who is down R.C.) 

MARJORIE — (Standing up stage R. of C, speaking to Walter 
coldly but politely) — I said good-bye to you the night I came home. 
I thought you knew that I didn't want to see you again. 

WALTER — (Taken aback, but keeping his nerve, smiling) — 
Why — why — no ! I didn't ! I didn't suppose for a second that you 
were really serious about it. 

CANER — (Approaching a step nearer Walter, up stage C.) — 
When my daughter says a thing— she means it. 

WALTER — (In a hard tone) — Oh, she does! 

MARJORIE— (i^mJ/v)— But if you like, I'll say it again. 
Good-b3'e ! 

WALTER — (Quietly, but getting angry) — That's a little rough — 
considering 

CANER — (To Walter) — My daughter has said "good-bye" to you 
TWICE. Now, I say, good-night, Mr. Nicolls ! 

WAL.TER— (Nastily)— That's all right! But you don't know 
why she's turned me down — and neither you nor she can afiford 

CANER— Blodgett !! ! Mr. Nicolls is gomgl—(Blodgett dis- 
appears in hallway to R.) 

MARJORIE— Please, Walter 

WALTER — (To Caner, speaking rapidly, venomously) — I'm not 
going till I tell you something you don't know! — (Pointing to Mar- 
jorie) — She's been having an affair with a man next door — (Caner 
starts toward Walter) — I got on to her — I watched in the back 
STREET — a week ago yesterday — saw her climb out of his attic win- 
dow 

(Caner suddenly catches Walter by the coat collar. Marjorie 
clasps her hand ov?r her mouth, her elbows close to her sides, half 
frightened, half laughing, her eyes wide with excitement. Sewall 
looks on with mingled indignation and amusem,ent) . 

WALTER — (Protesting violently) — You — leave — me alone 

Cx\NER— Blodgett ! Open the front door [—(He fairly, lifts 
Walter off his feet, sweeps him out through the CD. to R. Marjorie 
stands still, in the pose above indicated, up R.C. listening, blinking). 

WALTER— (0# stage— breathlessly)— That's— all— the— thanks 
— I — get — for — (Sound of door suddenly closing with a bang. Sewall 
sinks down on settee R: shaking with noiseless mirth. Marjorie keeps 
her eyes fastened on CD. Caner re-enters, re-adjusting his clothes 



94 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



and limping. Blodgett with an air of great satisfaction, crosses in 
hallway from R. to L.) 

CANER — (Out of breath, hotly, but elated) — I guess I'm a 
match— for a young swine — like that! I knew what he was — I told 
Rom'ney ! 

MARJORIE — (Going to Caner, timidly, solicitously, breath- 
lessly) — Oh, Pa-pa, you're — you're wonderful! You — you dear 
STRONG thing. 

CANER — (Ready to whip a regiment) — Oh, I'm strong enough 
to handle a whelp like Nicolls. But I don't intend to spend my life 
getting you out of scrapes. This is what comes of your wild excur- 
sions across the roof. Never let me catch you 

MARJORIE— How is — is — your poor foot? 

CANER— (6"ii7/ feeling the joy of battle) — My foot — my foot? 
There's nothing the matter with my foot. 

MARJORIE — Oh yes there is ! Don't you remember— you've 
got the rheumatism ! 

CANER — Oh, thunderation ! So I have — so I have. 

MARJORIE— (L^radw^r him to throne chair L. C.) — Sit down 
Pa-pa- — dear! Do sit down! — (Gently pushes him into chair) — There 
— there, now! — (To Sewall, as she adjust cushions about Caner) — 
Wasn't Pap-pa wonderful? 

SEWALL — Fabulous! — (Noise of motor horn blown off R. 
Marjorie rushes to window). 

MARJORIE — (Excitedly) — It's Romney's car! Yes, yes — 
Tony's with him ! 

CANER — You two clear out ! Let me receive him. I'll send 
for you, Arthur, when I want you. And you, Marjorie — you keep 
away! — (Bell buzses in hallway). 

MARJORIE — You'll be — be very gentle with him— 

CANER — (Impatiently) — Yes, yes, yes! — (Blodgett crosses hall- 
way from L. to R.) 

MARJORIE— And don't let him know that I'm Marjorie. He 
thinks that I'm his — his fairy god-mother! — (Caner looks at Mar- 
' jorie as though he thought her crazy, and waves her away. Mar' 
jorie and Sewall with the manuscript in his hand, exeunt L.E.V 
Caner sighs and sinks back in throne chair. Blodgett appears Lt 
C. D. from R.) 

BLODGETT — (Announcing) — Mr. Anthony Quintard, Mr. 
Romney Evans! — (Enter Tony and Romney. Tony is dressed as in 
Act III. He is a little pale. Blodgett exits in hall to L. Caner rises). 

CANER — (Offering his hand to Tony; addressing Romney) — I 
wish you'd leave Mr. Quintard to me! — (Shakes hands with Tony). 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 95 



ROMNEY — I'm satisfied! — (With a smile) — I've brought two 
great men together/ — (Romney exits L.U.E. Tony and Caner are 
standing L.C. estimating each other. Tony with a pleasant smile, 
Caner with a look of sober inquiry). 

TONY — You don't look like a musician. 

CANER— I'm not! 

TONY — {Surprised, puzzled)— Bnt I came here to meet Mr. 
Sewall, the composer. 

CANER — He'll be here in a few minutes. I'm Morris Caner. 

TONY — {Amazed) — Morris Caner? 

CANER— Yes. 

TONY — This is your house? 

CANER— Yes. 

TONY — I thought there was something familiar about this street 
as we drove up ! I used to be a neighbor of yours. 

CANER — You see, I ought to know you. Won't you sit down? 
— {Waves Tony to the settee below piano. Tony is not in the 
least afraid of Caner, but he is puzzled; looks about suspiciously 
as he goes to settee, and waits for Caner to be. seated. Caner sits 
L. end and Tony R. end of settee). — Sewall is an old friend of 
mine. I'm not what you'd call musical — but I take an interest in 
music — in all the arts — I've sometimes thought if I hadn't been so 
good at making money I might have painted a chromo or written 
a popular song. 

TONY — I shouldn't have any regrets, if I were you. It's 
quite a stunt to have made a pile of money. I've often wondered 
how it's done. 

CANER — {Amused, but interested) — I made my start as a 
three-dollar clerk in a little one-horse steel concern. I lived on 
two dollars — saved one. It took me five years to buy my first coke- 
oven. 

TONY — What on earth did you want with a coke-oven? 

CANER — You can't make a pound of steel without coke. I 
realized that the men who could control the coke industry would 
have the steel business by the throat — and that steel was the 
coming thing — the biggest thing in this country. — {Pause for an 
instant)— In my mind, I saw the hills of the Conemaugh Valley 
covered with coke ovens. And then mills, turning out my rails, 
and my own locomotives,, hauling my own greight, over my own 
roads — 

TONY — {Interested, almost excited) — Go on — go on — it's an 
epic. 



96 THiE CINDERELLA-MAN 



CANER — It all CAME — bigger than I had foreseen. The coke 
was the basic idea, if you understand me. 

TONY — {With enthusiasm) — Understand you? I should say 
I did ! It's wonderful — stupendous — what you big fellows do ! 
You're all alike — financier — artist — the same in spirit ! You work 
in a dififerent medium, but you're all members of the great brother- 
hood of the imagination. 

CANER — (With a laugh, but flattered) — You're getting be- 
yond me, now. 

TONY — Oh, no, I'm not ! Coke-ovens, mills, railroads, bridges, 
tunnels, ships, canals — you create them all here — (Taps his fore- 
head)— first, you big fellows, you Captains of Industry! That's 
the way you express your imagination — just as the artist paints 
his picture, the poet writes his song, the musician composes his 
symphony! We all see it here first — (Taps his forehead) — our 
Conemaugh Valley lit with its coke-ovens ! 

CANER — (Pleased) — I never thought of it that way. 

TONY- — ^Why do men like you care for art — fill your houses 
with beautiful things — go wild with enthusiasm when you've picked 
up a rare porcelain or a great canvas ? It's simply one master 
taking off his hat to the genius of another. 

CANER — That's a great tribute to pay us. 

TONY^You're doing the right thing. You ought to be en- 
couraged. 

CANER — (Laconically) — Thanks. If what you say is true — 
then men like you and I should stand together. 

TONY — Oh, we must — we must. 

CANER — That's a bargain. — (Rises, offers Tony his hand. Tony 
rises, takes his hand) — And as your art cannot pay you as my in- 
dustries pay me, it will be your duty to call on me — whenever 
you need a hand to help you over the rough places. 

TONY — That's awfully decent of you. — (Arthur Sewall appears 
at C.E. from L.) 

CANER — And remember, if you should refuse me the privilege 
of standing by you, you will be false to the brotherhood. — (Tony 
nods and smiles. Caner holds out his hand again) — We're friends 
— m'son ! 

TONY — (Grasping his hand firmly) — No wonder you're a big 
man. 

CANER — (Waving Sezvall to enter) — But here's the man you 
want! — (Sewall comes down C. on L. side of Tony. Caner in- 
troduces them) — Mr. Sewall — Mr. Quintard. 

SEWALL — (As he shakes Tony's hand)—Conioun6. you, my 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 97 



dear boy, what the devil do you mean by spoiling that last act? 
Yott will have to go back to the original — do you understand? 

TONY — {Embarrassed) — Yes — yes Mr. Evans told me as much. 
Of course, I'll be delighted to do it- 

SEW ALL — {Triumphantly) — Aaah! You are a good boy. 
The rest you may leave to me. If I cannot make those judges 
give you the prize old Papa Sewall will take the book himself. 

TONY — I'm tremendously obliged to you! It's a wonderful 
thing for me to have a great musician like you — 

SEWALL — {Patting Tony on the back) — You're an artist your- 
self my lad — I know — I know ! 

CANER — That's settled — only I'm going to see that he gives 
you a good contract, Quintard. That's as important to you as 
the happy ending is to him. 

TO^Y— {Smiling)— Oh, I guess that'll be all right.— {Sud- 
denly, to Sewall) — But how did you know about the happy ending? 

SEWALL — I had a look at your original manuscript. — {Tony 
is pussled) — 

CANER — It seems that my daughter's companion had the 
original manuscript in her possession — I believe she's an acquain- 
tance of yours, Quintard. 

TONY— Oh, yes— yes ! ' 

SEWALL — She showed it to me. 

TONY — Why then — I I — I owe all my good luck to her. 

SEWALL— Without a doubt. 

TONY — {To Caner) — I wonder — would your daughter let Miss 
Mudge come down to see me? — {Caner and Sewall are surprised 
and amused at his calling Marjorie "Miss Mudge." Tony is 
pussled) — I'd like to thank her. 

CANER — I'll see if my daughter can spare Miss Mudge. — 
{Caner exits L.U.E.) 

TONY-^ {To Sewall)— -You feel pretty sure that the opera will 
be a go ? ' 

SEWALL — Oh, yes, yes, yes ! It will be a sensation. It 
screams for the kind of music I write — it is so original — fantastic 
- — romantic. I am so sure of it — I'll tell you what I'll do : If I 
cannot get that ten thousand for you, I'll give you one thousand 
as an advance on royalties myself. 

TONY — {Delighted) — That would be very generous. 

SEWALL — That is nothing — {Taking card from his Pocket 
and giving it to Tony) — Here! You come to see me to-morrow — 
at noon — {Shakes Tony's hand) — We'll go over the manuscript 
together. — (Sewali exits L.U.E.) 



98 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 



{Tony in a happy frame of mind wanders over to the piano. 
He mechanically picks up a piece of music. It is his song. He 
looks at it in wonderment). 

{Marjorie enters C.E. from L. Tony hears her. He turns 
with the music in his hand. He is fairly stunned. He has never 
seen her look so pretty. She pauses at C.E. a little shyly ^ feeling 
guilty at having deceived him. He starts up towards her, holding 
out his right hand. The song is in his left hand). 

TONY — You look like — a fairy princess — not a fairy god- 
mother ! 

MARJORIE — (Shyly taking his hand) — How are you, Mr. 
Cinderella-Man? — {They stand there, holding each other's hand, 
looking at each other). 

TONY — How pretty you are ! 

MARJORIE — I asked you how you were. 

TONY— Oh — I — I've been most miserable — but I'm very, very 
happy now. 

MARJORIE— About your opera? 

TONY — -I didn't mean that so much — though, of course, I'm 
happy about it — Sewall has accepted it. 

MARJORIE— I knew he would. 

TONY— I owe that to you. 

MARJORIE — You were very naughty. Why-^why did you 
change it? 

TONY — I was so unhappy — so fearfully unhappy — after you 
had gone that night — the old ending didn't seem right. I rewrote 
it out of my wretchedness. 

MARJORIE — You — you missed me — a little? 

TONY — {Looking directly at her, speaking slowly, subdued) — 
Oh, yes. Yes. Yes! I never missed anyone so much, and I 
didn't know how I should ever see you again. It made me desperate. 
You can't understand how wonderful it is to — to be able — ^just to 
look at you once more. 

MARJORIE — {With a nervoiis little laugh) — I'm glad — to see 
— you — again. 

TONY — {After a pause, suddenly) — Let's sit down and talk 
to each other. — {Marjorie hesitates) — You're free for a few minutes, 
aren't you? 

MARJORIE — Y-yes, but don't you think it would be — ^be 
nice — if you were to meet the Princess. 

TONY — Thank you, but I'd rather not — not no^\— {Leads way 
to settee below piano). ■ •;•. ; 



THE CINDERELLA-MAN 99 

MAR] ORIE— (Sitting L. side of settee)— W\i-a.t's that you've 
got there? — {Indicating song). 

TONY — This? This is my song! — {Sitting R. end of settee) 
— I was wondering about it. It's dedicated to "Marjorie." 

MARJORIE— That's the Princess's name. 

TONY— Oh ! 

MARJORIE — She adores your song — she thinks it is the most 
beautiful song she ever heard. So you see, you really mustn't hate 
her any more. 

TONY — I don't hate her. It's only that I don't want to see 
anyone but — just you. I've only got room for you in my thoughts 
— in my heart. — {Marjorie looks away from him. She is worried. 
After a pause). 

MARJORIE— I'm not sure that you'll want to 

TONY — {Looks at her puzzled) — Not want to? Why my 
dear little girl, I love you. It was all I could do to keep from 
telling you that last afternoon in the attic. But it didn't seem 
right then — I had nothing — {Goes through business of putting hand 
in his pocket and taking out some small change as in Act III.) — 
seventeen cents — not a prospect! I didn't know how I could take 
care of you. And I've nothing yet. But it's coming — Sewall is 
confident that the opera will be a success. He is even going to 
give me a thousand dollars in advance — that's one hundred thousand 
cents. So now I feel that I can ask you to marry me. 

MARJORIE — {Rising and crossing toward throne chair L.C.) 
— I wish I knew— what I ought to do. 

TONY — {Following her) — It's all very simple — if you love me. 
We could be married in the spring — and go away to the country — 
to a dear, clean little cottage — I know of — on the edge of a hilL 
I'll have enough to keep us going till the royalties begin to come in. 
We'd be happy there. What do you say, dear? 

MARJORIE — Oh, it sounds heavenly to me. — {He starts toward 
her — she stops him with a gesture) — I should love keeping a little 
home like that for you — aHc starts again toward her — she stops 
him. Then mounts the footstool and climbs into the throne chair) 
— But I can't say "yes" until — you've asked the Princess I 

TONY— (^wa^ec?)— Asked the Princess? 

MARJORIE — {Sitting very dignified, solemnly, in what she 
purposes is the manner of a Princess, speaking almost tearfully) — 
Yes ! Please — ask — the Princess ! 

TONY — {Staring at her, unbelievingly for a mom,ent; then 
subdued, but desperate) — You — you — you are the Princess? 

MARJORIE — {Tearfully) — Yes! Yes! I've deceived you! 



100 THE CINDERELLA-MAN 

I'm the Princess ! I'm horribly rich — and my father won't disinherit 
me. 

TONY — (Completely overwhelmed, speechless, shocked. Looks 
at her with bewilderment. Then in a hurt voice) — You — you haven't 
played fair. You — you've been so — so kind — so generous — so ador- 
able. I couldn't help loving you — and now I shan't be able to 
stop. 

MARJORIE — You mustn't stop! Please go on loving me! — 
{He backs away a little)- — Listen to me, Tony dear. You're my 
PRINCE and I love you too well to spoil your dream. If you don't 
want my money, I'll give it away. But you must take me — take 
me away to your clean, little cottage — I'll keep it for my Cinderella- 
Man in his own way — for it's my way, too ! 

{Tony turns away from her slowly, trying to get his bearings. 
He starts up stage, his hand to his head. Marjorie thinks that he 
is repelled — that she has lost him. She wilts in the chair, her 
face in her hands, broken-hearted. Tony pauses up stage, turns 
about slowly, looks at Marjorie, starts as he sees her huddled in 
the chair. For a moment he does not know what to do. He takes 
a step toward her. He sees that she is sobbing silently. He hesitates 
an instant; then, under the sudden impulse of his great affection 
for her, he goes to the ehair, kneels on the stool, his back to the 
audience, and takes h^r fland. Her head falls on his shoulder). 

CURTAIN— END OF PLAY 



{For Recall — Marjorie and Tony are sitting together in the 
throne chair. Caner, Sewall and Romney are standing at C.E., 
smiling at the lovers). 



,i„JB'?ARy OP 



CONGRESS 




Copyright June, 1915 
by Edward Child s Carpenter 

Copyright December, 1915 
by Edward Childs Carpenter 

|ht in Ottawa, Canada December, 1915 
by Edward Childs Carpenter. 

Copyright in Great Britain 
by Edward Childs Carpenter 



PRINTED BY 

Tower Bros. Stationery Co., 
New York, N. Y. 



